


The Symphony Verse: Circle of Fifths

by shandyall



Series: The Symphony Verse [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shandyall/pseuds/shandyall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five glimpses into Blaine Anderson’s life, plus the first glimpse ever. A 5+1 fic in The Symphony Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To: Dad, Daddy From: Addie  
Date: Wed, Oct 19, 3:38pm  
Subject: If you love me, you will let me go.

Dear Poop and Dumdum,

Greetings and salutations.

I am writing to you with regards to an upcoming musical event that I would like to attend. It is on Thursday, November 3rd at 9:00 pm at a small musical venue in New York City. I think it would be a good cultural experience, and something of a good faith mission, should you allow me to proceed with my plans. As in, it would show that you have good faith in me, and my ability to be an independent young woman.

Fear not, fathers! I would not be attending alone. I would have an entourage of other like-minded young people with me. (including the boy I’m currently in love with.)

In conclusion, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY LET ME GO TO THIS CONCERT. PLEASE I BEG OF YOU. I WILL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT ME TO DO.

Sincerely yours,  
Adelaide Anderson-Hummel the First.

~~~~~

To: Kurt, From: Blaine  
Date: Wed, Oct 19, 4:53 pm  
Subject: You know.

PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME HAVE TO SAY NO. I HATE SAYING NO KURT. I KNOW IT’S MY TURN BUT I CAN’T.

~~~~~

To: Blaine, From Kurt  
Date: Wed, Oct 19, 5:09 pm  
Subject: re: You know.

I was waiting for this email. You’re so predictable.

And of course you have to say no. If you don’t say no, then I guess she’s going to this concert, and her inevitable death and/or resulting jail time will be solely your responsibility.

~~~~~

To: Kurt, From: Blaine  
Date: Wed, Oct 19, 5:22 pm  
Subject: re: You know.

I don’t like you.

But I love you.

Do you want Thai for dinner?

~~~~~

To: Addie, From: Daddy  
CC: Dad  
Date: Wed, Oct 19, 6:01 pm  
Subject: re: If you love me, you will let me go.

Dear Adelaide the First,

It’s because we love you that we can’t let you go.

You’re only 15. The city is huge. Many of your friends are imbeciles. It would be poor parenting to let this happen.

Our answer is no. We’re sorry, we know you want to go. We’re willing to compromise. Maybe next time there’s a concert you want to go to, you can run it by us, and we’ll take you and a few of your friends?

We’d offer to do it this time, but I checked and the tickets are already sold out.

Love always,  
Poop and DumDum

~~~~~

“Hey there,” Kurt says, walking into the kitchen, giving Blaine a peck on the cheek.

Blaine turns around and holds up his finger in a one second gesture.

“Beef pad thai, shrimp spring rolls, chicken pad king, and pineapple fried rice,” he says into the phone, his speech slow and precise, and then listens to the person on the other end. “How long? Thanks.”

He puts the phone down, and smiles at Kurt.

“That was some good phone you just gave,” Kurt teases.

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I hate the phone.”

“You could have ordered online.”

Blaine stares him down. “Why must you tease mmm-me so?”

“You don’t always have to talk on the phone. It’s not actually laziness, or fear, or whatever. Sometimes I order online.”

Blaine shrugs, and settles on one of the kitchen stools. “It’s b-b-better if I try.”

“Of course. You work hard at it. You don’t have to tell me how hard you try.” Kurt leans on the counter next to him, catching Blaine’s eye.

Every time Kurt looks at Blaine these days, all he can think is how well his husband is aging. How even with the gray forming at Blaine’s temples, and the laugh lines by his eyes, he could just as easily be 35 as 45. And how did they get so old anyway? Kurt still feels 20 half the time.

“We’re b-b-being shunned,” Blaine tells him, changing the subject.

“I figured,” Kurt says with a sigh.

“I asked her what she wanted for d-dinner, and she told me new parents.”

“She’s such a drama queen.”

“She is indeed.”

“Where’s Declan?”

Blaine glances at the clock. “Next door, but he should be home s-s-soon. I texted him about dinner.”

“Where’s the dog?”

“Um, hiding from Addie’s wrath? Sleeping sssss-somewhere? Poor Pic is getting old,” Blaine says with a frown.

They hear a door slam above them.

“Sounds like our little angel is emerging,” Kurt says with a smile.

“Are you ready for this?”

“I was born ready,” Kurt says, leaning in to kiss Blaine.

“Ew, you are both gross,” Addie says, stomping into the room a moment later.

“I thought you weren’t speaking to us?” Blaine asks innocently.

“I’m not. But I’m never above reprimanding you for making out in the kitchen.”

“Addie, sweetie,” Kurt starts.

She looks at him, tight lipped, and crosses her arms. Blaine can’t help but think how much she looks like Kurt when she does that. She might have gotten her blond hair elsewhere, but her icy blue eyes, facial expressions, and mannerisms are pure Hummel.

“We really think it’s for the best,” Kurt continues. “You’re too young. End of story.”

“How old were you the first time you went to a concert?” She levels this question at Blaine, who grins.

“Ha! I was like 20. I went w-w-w-with Matt. You won’t win your argument that way.”

“And you?” she says to Kurt.

“Well, I was in high school. But it was Ohio. And it was a stadium concert. I was with Uncle Finn and Rachel and like 10 other people. It was not an intimate venue in the city on a school night. There were no creepy train stations involved or back alley drug deals.”

“There won’t be any back alley drug deals!” Addie protests.

“Buh-buh-buh-ut there will be imbecile friends,” Blaine chimes in.

“Well, I did go with Puck,” Kurt confesses.

“I’m trying to help. This is, is, is no time to b-b-b-bring up Puck.”

They turn their attention back to Addie, who is not looking assuaged.

“Whatever, you two are nerds.”

They both shrug.

Declan comes through the back door then, a whirl of autumn air coming with him.

He smiles and waves.

“Don’t mess with Addie tonight,” Blaine signs.

“You can mess with me,” Addie signs. She speaks too. She’s better at speaking and signing. And they’ve always taken a Total Communication approach with Declan, so it works for them. “These two aren’t allowed to mess with me.”

“What did they do?” Declan asks, also speaking and signing.

Declan’s speech is good these days, getting better all the time Blaine thinks.

Sometimes he worries that they should have waited longer to get him the first cochlear implant, waited for Declan to be old enough to make the decision himself, but when he hears how well Declan speaks he can’t help but feel like they made the right decision to do the implant just before Declan turned five.

He knows Kurt never waivers in their decision, but Kurt doesn’t know as much about Deaf culture. Not that Blaine is an expert, but his minor in sign language and his years in special education have given him a different perspective.

“Well for starters, they called my friends i-m-b-e-c-i-l-e-s,” she finger spells. “Not sure what the sign for that is.”

Declan shrugs. “That’s the truth. Some of them are.”

“And on top of that,” Kurt says, turning to face Declan, signing and speaking. His signs are a bit slower than Addie’s or Blaine’s. And definitely slower than Declan’s. “We told her she couldn’t go to a concert in the city.”

It took Kurt longer to learn sign language than he would have liked. He still feels like he should be better at it, quicker, more adept. He knows the signs and he understands the language, but his fingers are cumbersome. He feels like he’s completely fluent but has a really terrible accent. Blaine assures him, time and again, that he’s a really great signer, but Kurt thinks Blaine might be a bit biased.

Declan raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and scratches his nose.

“Aren’t you on my side?” Addie demands.

Declan shakes his head.

“You do realize I’m paving the way for you. They won’t let you do anything fun, but if I make them set certain precedents now, you’re going to have a lot easier time when you want to start going out,” Addie explains snippily.

Declan narrows his eyes, thinking about this and then turns back to his dads.

“You should let her go,” he says, definitively.

Blaine signs something quickly to Declan, who signs something back.

“Poop’s gonna give me 20 bucks to be on his side. What do you have to offer?” Declan asks Addie, with a smirk on his face.

Kurt bursts out laughing. “We are not above bribery,” he says.

Blaine nods in agreement.

Declan puts his hand out, wanting payment immediately.

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” Addie says, turning on her heel and marching back to her room.

“Does that mean you don’t want the pineapple fried rice I ordered for you?” Blaine calls out behind her. He finds he barely stutters when he signs and speaks.

She pauses on the stairs, and comes back into the kitchen slowly.

“Tell me more about this pineapple fried rice.”

Kurt nods. “We’re not above bribing you to be our friend again.”

Addie nods, defeated, and leans against the wall. “I just really wanted to go.”

“I know, Addie-girl,” Kurt says, pulling her into a hug.

The lights flash, signaling the doorbell.

Declan puts out his hand again, gesturing towards the door with the other.

“Give a decent tip,” Blaine signs.

Kurt moves to the refrigerator to get drinks out for everyone, and Addie leans against the counter.

Blaine starts poking her in the arm. “Are you still mad at me?” he asks, continuing to poke her.

“Daddy,” she starts seriously. “Are you aware that you’re more annoying than my little brother? How do you feel about that?”

“I feel like I’m going to continue you b-b-b-bothering you until you forgive me. It’s not easy be-be-be-being the bah-b-bad guy.” This time he pokes her in the side, the way he used to when she was little.

She gives him a slightly withering look, but then rolls her eyes and can’t help but smile.

“Fine,” she huffs. “I forgive you. I can’t believe you bribed Dec, turning my brother against me.”

Declan comes into the room, carrying their food.

“Traitor!” Addie yells at him. “Saboteur!”

He looks at her wide eyed.

“I really needed that 20 bucks,” he explains.

Addie and Declan rarely fight with each other. They have a fascinating sibling dynamic. Addie, when she’s in big sister mode, is protective and kind to Declan. But there are other times when all she really wants is for him to be on her side, forgetting that he’s no longer the little boy that used to follow her around and bow to her every wish. It’s unusual when Declan goes against her, but more and more recently he has his own opinion and agenda, much to Addie’s chagrin. Blaine looks forward to later when he and Kurt will have a chance to discuss Declan’s rare rebellion against Addie.

They settle in at the table to eat, discussing their day, talking, signing, getting louder and louder.

“I’m thinking about doing the, the, the Turkey Trot this year. Wanna r-r-r-run with me, Dec?” Blaine asks, mid-meal.

“Yes!” Declan exclaims. “Yes. I love that one.”

“We’re gonna have to train a b-b-b-bit. You haven’t been running with me since be-be-be-fore your surgery.”

“I can do it. I wanna do it,” Declan affirms. “We’ve been running the mile in gym and everything’s been fine.”

“Good,” Blaine smiles. He loves having running to bond with Declan over. “What were you doing next d-d-d-door this afternoon?”

Declan laughs. “We were playing indoor baseball.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Kurt says.

“They’re getting laminate floors put in their basement tomorrow,” Declan explains. “So everything is all cleaned up and pushed aside. It was Nerf baseball anyway.”

“That sounds mmmm-marginally safer,” Blaine admits.

~~~~~

A moment of Declan

I really want to ask my dads if I can play baseball. Like real baseball, not just baseball in Jack’s basement. But sometimes they’re a little … overprotective. I know they just worry about me, I think I really do get that. But sometimes I feel like I hold myself back a little bit just to make sure they’re okay. Like I worry about how much they worry about me.

And that’s not really how it’s supposed to be, right? The kid isn’t supposed to be worried about the parents, right?

I wonder if maybe I should have been on Addie’s side with the concert thing. Then maybe she’d be on my side after I ask them if I can play baseball. And if they said no at first, she would have helped me explain it to them. Why it’s a good idea.

And I mean, I already looked it up. There’s no reason for me not to play baseball just because of my implants. It shouldn’t be a big deal. I just don’t want them to make it a big deal.

I hope they don’t make it a big deal.

~~~~~

“Can I play baseball in the spring?” Declan asks.

Kurt and Blaine look at eachother and smile. They’re thrilled that Declan wants to join a team. He’s a bit of a loner, happy to spend most of his time with Jack, who lives next door. But this is the first time he’s shown any kind of interest in joining something himself. Not that Kurt and Blaine haven’t encouraged him to join team or clubs over the years, but Declan has always been a bit hesitant about groups.

But this, his interest in joining the baseball team, strikes them as very good news.

“Of course,” Kurt says, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Without a doubt,” Blaine agrees.

Declan smiles and hums happily.

~~~~~

Anderson-Hummel Residence.

**Hey Addie-girl.**

Hi Mama.

**What’s wrong?**

The dads won’t let me go to a concert.

**I’m sure they have a very good reason.**

Well, your son called my friends imbeciles.

**That wasn’t very nice of him.**

It wasn’t. Thank you for agreeing with me.

**But he’s usually a very nice guy, so I have a feeling he just wasn’t expressing himself very well. Is he close by so I can reprimand him?**

Yes. He is. And thank you, grandmother. Love you.

**You’re welcome, Adelaide. Love you, too.**

_Whatever she ssss-said is a lie._

**Hello to you too, bud.**

_Hi Mamacita._

**Pretend I’m reprimanding you for calling Addie’s friends imbeciles.**

_[Blaine chokes on a laugh.] Yes, mom. I’m sss-sorry, mom. I won’t do that ever again, mmm-mom._

**Good work. Aside from this concert argument with Addie, how are things?**

_Things are great. We just finished up dinner._

**Good. How’s Declan?**

_He’s good. He’s b-b-b-back in the swing of things after getting the, the, the new implant activated. He’s really, really good._

**And Kurt?**

_Well, I’m a little bit b-b-b-biased, buh-buh-ut he’s perfect._

**And you?**

_I’m a little b-b-bit perfect myself._

**Good. I miss you lately.**

_I’m sorry, mom. We’ll be out for, for, for Thanksgiving._

**Oh, I know, and I swear I’m not trying to guilt you. I’m just tired of your father.**

_[Blaine chuckles, but stays quiet, he knows she’s just getting started.]_

**He’s so whiny lately. He’s never been whiny. Usually he’s so stoic. But the pain medicine they gave him for his hip is just making him such a … such a … Well, Blaine. He’s being a complete, I don’t even know. I can’t think of a word. I need to talk to more people. I’m spending too much time in the house. I’m losing touch with any decent vocabulary words.**

_So, go out with Aunt Kathy for lunch. He can take care of himself for a couple hours, r-r-right?_

**I suppose. I guess I just worry about him falling.**

_Just a thought, b-b-but maybe you should have worried more b-b-be, before you made him move the hutch._

**That wasn’t my idea! That was his idea! I said I needed to clean behind it and that I would wait for Cooper to come over. But he took it upon himself. He was being pigheaded.**

_You r-r-realize you could get sssss-someone to come hang out with him while you go out? You dah-dah-dah-d-don’t have to leave him there alone?_

**Oh, he would just love that. A babysitter!**

_Just one of his friends! Or one of the kids. Call Cooper, ssss-see what Sabine’s up to. She could come over after school one afternoon and, and, and give you some time to yourself._

**That does sound nice...**

_And when w-w-w-we’re there for Thanksgiving, we’ll give you a full d-d-day to yourself. Heck, two full days._

**You’re a nice boy. Wait, what?**

_[Blaine is quiet again while he hears muttering in the background.]_

**Oh, for the love of God, I have to go. He dropped the remote control in between the couch and table and he can’t reach it.**

_Alright, mom. Love you, try not to drah-drah-drive yourself crazy._

**Alright, alright, love you too. And love to Kurt and the kids.**

_Don’t kill dad. I kind of love him, too._

**Fine. Bye, bud.**

_Bye Mama._

~~~~~

A week later, Blaine and Kurt sit Addie down one evening to ask her a favor.

She eyes them suspiciously.

“So,” Blaine begins. “Dad and I want to go out this ww-weekend with Matt and Julia.”

Addie’s eyes squint further.

Kurt picks up the train of thought. “And we were hoping you wouldn’t mind watching their kids.”

Addie sighs.

“They’ll b-b-b-b-bah-ring them here. Declan will help. And Jessa’s already 12, she’ll be helpful too,” Blaine continues.

“Miles doesn’t bark at people anymore,” Kurt adds.

“And Alex stopped pinching!” Blaine exclaims.

“And the twins are angels these days,” Kurt says.

“And we’re not above b-b-bra-bribery,” Blaine concludes.

“Tell me more about this bribery,” Addie finally says.

“A hundred bucks,” they say together.

Addie hums in deliberation.

“Please, Addie-girl,” Blaine says.

“Fine. But I think you owe me more than a hundred dollars.”

“We’ll discuss it,” Kurt says. “Dependent on how well the evening goes, and that the house doesn’t burn down, there could be more in it for you.”

“That seems fair,” Addie agrees.

“You are mmm-my favorite daughter,” Blaine tells her, holding his arms out for a hug.

She hauls herself off the couch to hug him. “And you are my favorite dad with a name that starts with B.”

“I accept that,” Blaine says, squeezing her. She’s gotten so tall lately. She had on a pair of boots with a heel the other day and she was taller than him. But right now she’s barefoot and still his little girl.

“Can’t. Breathe,” she chokes out.

“Liar,” Blaine says, squeezing her tighter.

She squeezes his waist in revenge.

~~~~~

That weekend Matt and Julia invade with their children on Saturday evening. All five of them love Addie. They spend enough time together that there’s no initial hesitancy that you sometimes see with kids. Though by and large, Matt and Julia’s offspring are hyperactive, to say the least.

Jessa, the oldest at 12, is the most mellow, she’s followed by Miles, 10, Alex (named after Blaine’s former coffee alter-ego, due to the loss of a bet), 9 and then the twins (identical), Nathan & Evan are 5. The twins are basically human tornadoes. Blaine and Kurt are well aware that they owe Addie big time for taking on this responsibility.

With little fanfare the adults make it out the house.

Kurt and Blaine live within walking distance of the train station, so they enjoy the short walk, chatting idly about the weather, work.

Once in the city, they make their way to the restaurant that has become their regular favorite. Most of the places they frequented in college have closed, or changed hands so many times they’re unrecognizable. But they discovered this place about 10 years ago, and they have a steak that Matt writes sonnets about, and Blaine approves of the chicken. Kurt and Julia are not nearly as picky as their significant others, but they think the place is fine.

“How’s your dad?” Matt asks Blaine as they read their menus.

Blaine chuckles. “He’s fine. I’m still not sure why an 81 year old mmm-man thought it was, it was, it was a, a, a good idea to move a hutch. I think it’s my mom we should be w-w-worried about. She’s had to wait on his ssss-sorry ass while his hip heals.”

“So, I guess no ice fishing this year?” Julia asks with a grin.

Blaine rolls his eyes.

“No! You can’t cancel ice fishing,” Kurt protests. “That’s my favorite weekend for shopping with your mom.”

“I guess we’ll see how his physical therapy goes,” Blaine says with a shrug. “Speaking of therapy, what do you think of Declan’s s-s-s-speech?” he asks Matt.

“I think it sounds really good,” Matt says. “His enunciation is even better than the last time I saw him. And that was only a month ago. I think getting the second implant was a good idea. Which I’ve told you at least a hundred times.”

Blaine nods. Declan hears well, surprisingly well, and understands a lot of of the world around him. But his speech was still quite garbled. Blaine knows that his speech doesn’t have to be perfect, he’s well aware of that. But it didn’t keep Blaine from feeling that there was more they could be doing for Declan. And Declan was game for learning. Blaine would have never pressured him about his speech, except that Declan was interested in working on it.

Declan sees a whole slew of different therapists, audiologists, speech pathologists. He only sees a speech therapist on a weekly basis these days, but every couple of months they make the rounds to the other doctors and specialists. Blaine’s even taken Declan to see Chad several times, mostly to get a second opinion on things.

“How’s he feeling about it?” Julia asks. “About the new implant and everything?”

“He takes in stride,” Blaine says. “It was his decision to get a second one.” Blaine shakes his head. Declan makes him emotional. Blaine is so scared to make the wrong decision when it comes to their son.

“I think Blaine’s more concerned than Declan is,” Kurt says, giving Blaine’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I want to mmm-make sure we do the right thing,” Blaine says with a shrug. “Particularly with the advances they’ve been making with r-r-re-reconstructing the cochlea. But all of Declan’s d-d-d-doctors agreed that since he lost his hearing to mmm-men-meningitis, he’s probably not going to be a candidate for the, the, the same kind of procedures as people who were b-b-born deaf. And that his implant w-w-w-won’t keep him from b-b-b-being a candidate for other advances in the future.”

His three dinner companions stare at Blaine.

“I know, I know. I’ve said all that a hundred times. I just need to keep r-r-r-reminding myself.”

Matt pats Blaine’s hand. “We get it, no worries.”

Blaine smiles. There’s a reason Matt’s still his best friend after all these years.

The waitress comes to take their order then. Julia goes first, followed by Matt, and then Kurt orders for both himself and Blaine.

Blaine thanks Kurt with a scrunch of his nose.

“God, I love that you still do stuff like that for each other. I swear, the romance never dies for you two,” Julia says, leaning back in her chair.

Matt drapes his arm around her shoulders. “When did the romance die for us?” Matt asks.

“When we accidently conceived twins.”

“Those damn kids,” Matt says, shaking his head solemnly.

“They sss-seem … less intense lately,” Blaine offers kindly.

“Ha!” Matt and Julia bark out at the same time.

“How much do we owe Addie for putting up with our brood this evening?” Matt asks.

“We’ll pay her,” Kurt insists.

“Oh, hell no,” Matt says. “We’ll pay her too if that’s the case.”

“And you can’t stop us,” Julia says.

“She’ll be thrilled,” Kurt says.

“She’s a good kid,” Matt says.

“She is, but we had our first serious ‘teenager’ fight with her recently,” Kurt says.

Conversation moves from there, all over the map. They talk work and kids and parents. Health insurance and 401k plans. The days where they make fun of themselves for discussing such mundane, adult topics have past. This is life. Though they do fall into a lengthy discussion about a new tv show, and Matt rants about how he had the same idea 15 years ago.

“Remember B? We were out having drinks and I said it! I said it at the bar, and I think someone must have overheard me. I could be a flobbity jillionaire at this point.”

Blaine rolls his eyes fondly, but concedes that Matt really did outline the basic plot that night.

They finish up, somehow Julia winning this round of “who will pay the check?”

“I have a new job. I’m no longer a stay-at-home mom. I could be an independent woman. You three don’t always have to pay for me,” she states.

“Please don’t leave me!” Matt begs. “And if you do, at least take the twins with you.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“Anyway!” Matt says, clapping his hands. “How about coffee?”

Kurt checks his watch. “Have we heard from the kids?”

Blaine checks his phone. “Declan just texted me this p-p-p-picture.” He turns it so everyone can see.

“That’s an impressive blanket fort,” Julia says.

“Addie learned from the best,” Kurt tells her, linking his arm through Blaine’s. “I’m in for coffee. As long as it’s decaf.”

“You’re such an old man,” Matt teases him.

“Yeah, that year and a half difference between us is really starting to show up,” Kurt volleys, gesturing at his own gray-less hair and pointing towards Matt’s salt and pepper temples.

“I blame my children,” Matt says with a shrug. ‘“I have no idea how my parents did it. And we have two less than them.”

“There’s still time to catch up!” Blaine says.

Julia kicks Blaine in the shin.

“We should have gone the Sam and Erin route. One kid. One nice, quiet kid. And then you outnumber them,” Matt explains.

“We are so outnumbered, Matty,” Julia says, winding an arm around Matt’s waist.

“Why are we still walking?” Kurt asks suddenly. “We’ve passed like five coffee shops.”

“I had a specific one in mind,” Matt says.

Kurt gives Blaine a questioning look, but they continue on. After what seems like a ridiculously long walk to Kurt, Matt finally turns into a coffee house. It’s warm and bright inside, bustling on this Saturday night.

“Go find us a table,” Kurt says to Blaine and Julia. “Matt and I will grab drinks.”

“The usual,” Blaine says with a smile.

“I’ll just have tea,” Julia tells Matt. “Decaf!” she calls after him.

“Why do you I feel like you guys are up to something tonight?” Julia asks, as she and Blaine settle into a table on the far side of the room.

Blaine smiles and shrugs. “What could we be up to?” Blaine asks innocently.

She lets it drop, instead asking more specific questions about Blaine’s class, the students, the curriculum. By the time Matt and Kurt return, they’re deep in a discussion about how Blaine feels about teaching in an inclusionary classroom.

“It’s a challenge,” he says, accepting his mocha from Kurt with a smile. “Buh-buh-ut worth it. The kids are so great together. It’s an, an, an incredible thing to w-w-witness.”

The four move back into other topics, and Kurt thinks that maybe a caffeinated coffee drink was not the best idea for Blaine.

“Why are you bouncing like that?” Kurt murmurs to him.

“I don’t know,” Blaine says. “I’m b-b-b-bouncing?” His grin belying his awareness of his actions, but just wanting to tease Kurt. Kurt pats his knee.

One of the workers announces that there’s an open mic, and Kurt smiles. “Aw, I feel nostalgic,” he says.

“You’ll feel even more nostalgic in a minute,” Matt tells him, standing up.

Blaine blushes the same shade of red as his sweater when he and Matt stand up and move to the stage area. They had called ahead, learned that there were instruments that other participants never mind sharing. Blaine picks up one of the guitars, and Matt zeros in on a ukulele. He had planned to play guitar, but seeing the ukulele he can’t help himself.

They each take a stool and smile at the crowd. Julia is glowing, and Kurt’s hand is in front of his mouth.

Matt starts. “Blaine asked me to back him up tonight, and I can’t ever really say no to him, because he didn’t say no to me back in the day. I made him promise I was allowed at least one song. So, this is for you, Jules. Even after all this time.”

Matt starts in on a familiar song, and Blaine picks at the first few chords and Matt starts singing.

I was like, good gracious ass bodacious  
Flirtatious, tryin’ to show faces  
Lookin’ for the right time to shoot my steam (you know)  
Waitin' for the right time to flash them keys  
Then um I'm leavin, please believin (oh)  
Me and the rest of my heathens

Julia laughs the entire time, cheeks red, tears streaming down her face. Kurt can’t stop watching her. At least until Blaine takes the “Girl, I think my butt gettin’ big” line, and then Kurt has to turn to watch him strum away. When they finish, Matt trades in his ukulele for a guitar, preparing to back up and harmonize with Blaine, like they have for so many years.

“It was … 26 years ago,” Blaine starts, voice shy, smiling nervously. Kurt knows he still detests public speaking, which is exactly why the fact that he’s doing it right now is so meaningful. “It www-was on an early November night ssss-sort of, of, of, of like this one that I-I-I first saw the perfect man. He talked to me and I r-r-ran away. Buh-buh-buh-ut somehow we found each other, again and again. He, he, um, he’s put up with me all this time. Ineffable, patient, my perfect fella. He’s always b-b-been willing to fill in my,” here Blaine signs the word “blanks” and Kurt smiles, shaking his head. Blaine will never cease to surprise him. “So, happy sorta-versary.”

Blaine starts with Pale Blue Eyes, and then transitions into First Day of My Life. Then he and Matt play When I’m 64, and round out the set with So Happy Together.

They finish, thanking the crowd, and head back to their spouses.

“Oh, Matt,” Julia says. “I take it back. Romance isn’t dead.”

Blaine sits next to Kurt and smiles bashfully.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you, poop?”

“How mmm-much? Scale of 1 to 10.”

“Infinitely. I love you infinitely.”

Kurt pulls Blaine towards him and kisses his flushed cheek.

~~~~~

When the adults get home, the house is practically pulsing with noise. Addie has the sound system going, and the kids are having a dance party.

Two out of the five Eversleigh kids and Addie descend upon them as they walk into the room. Declan and the twins keep dancing.

“How much sugar did you give them?” Julia calls over the music.

“Not that much even! They’re just really into it!” Addie calls back.

Julia gives her a thumbs up. These kids are going to sleep WELL tonight.

“Declan,” Kurt yells. “Dec!”

He’s twirling around one of the twins.

“He took his ears off!” Alex tells Kurt.

Kurt picks up one of the random foam balls that are strewn about the room and tosses it at Declan to get his attention. It hits him in the shoulder, and he glances around. He grins at the group that just entered the room and waves.

“It was too loud in here!” he yells, way louder than music, his voice booming.

Addie turns down the stereo then, and all the kids groan, except Declan who continues spinning Evan.

“You guys ready to go home?” Matt asks.

“No!” Jessa cries, and all the other kids nod. “It’s not even that late! We thought you guys were going to be gone longer.”

“It’s already 11 o’clock,” Matt says. “The twins are going to drop any second.” Declan still has one twin in his arms from twirling, and the other is leaning heavily on his hip.

Matt swoops in, picking up a twin in each arm.

There are hugs all around, and the Eversleighs are out the door, leaving what feels like a gaping hole behind them.

“So, did you guys have fun?” Blaine signs, and then starts to help the kids pick up the pillows and blankets, and foam balls that he has no memory of owning, that are strewn about the family room.

Declan talks a mile a minute, signing in between helping to clean up. He says that he loves Matt and Julia’s kids, and that he had a lot of fun, and he wishes they would come over more often.

Addie scoffs through the entirety of Declan’s monologue.

“I take you didn’t have as much fun, Addie?” Kurt asks.

“I had fun, but I think Dec is romanticizing the entire evening.”

Declan shakes his head. He signs to them that he’s going to go to sleep. They say goodnight, and Declan heads up the stairs.

Kurt watches him go and then turns to Addie. “So Declan really had a good time? He was okay?”

“Dad, he’s almost 13 years old, he doesn’t need me to babysit him.”

“We don’t mean it in a b-b-babysitting kind of way,” Blaine says.

“We just worry about him. We want to make sure he’s not overwhelmed, ” Addie says in a deep voice, and then makes it a bit higher for the next sentence. “We want to make sure he’s doing okay, right, poop?” To cap off her performance, she makes her voice deep again, and says, “Even better than okay, dumdum.”

“Her impression of you is getting really good,” Kurt says to Blaine, before turning to Addie. “You need to slow down his speech a little. Maybe add a repetition here and there.”

Blaine’s eyes go wide, but then he grins and throws a pillow at Kurt. “Her impression of you isn’t high p-p-pitched enough,” Blaine says.

Kurt throws the pillow back, and Blaine ducks, throwing himself down on the couch. Piccolo comes out of hiding then, and Blaine scratches behind his ears while he talks.

“In any event, Addie-girl,” he says, gesturing for her to sit next to him, continuing when she does. “We like to hear your thoughts on the mmmm-matter. And we’ll ask Declan the same questions,” Blaine explains.

“We certainly don’t think he lies to us, but,” Kurt pauses and smiles, taking the seat next to Addie on the couch. “He does tend to romanticize events. That’s a good word for it. He glosses over the negative.”

Addie sighs. “Yes, everything was fine. He was happy. He helped out a lot. The kids love him, he loves the kids. He took off his transmitters because it was loud, but I think he also wanted to rough house more with the boys, and he was worried about breaking them.”

“Such a good kid,” Kurt says, shaking his head.

“So, poop,” Addie says, patting Blaine’s knee. “Did dumdum like his surprise?”

Blaine leans over to smile at Kurt. “I think you could say that.”

“Yes, you could,” Kurt agrees, with a grin.

~~~~~

Later, when they’re in bed, the boys lay nose to nose, whispering like they have every night for the vast majority of the last 25 years, Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand.

“Do you know how lucky we are?” he whispers.

“I do,” Kurt says, and then a look of worry crosses his features. “Do you think Addie resents us for making her keep an eye on Declan?”

Blaine rolls onto his back and puts his hands behind his head. “This is awfully d-d-deep for pillow talk,” he says to Kurt.

Kurt slides over and rests his head on Blaine’s chest. “I just don’t want her to resent us, or him, for that matter.”

Blaine’s hand comes down to caress Kurt’s arm.

“I, I, I don’t think she does. I think she’s just as, as, as protective of Declan as w-w-w-we are. I think she understands that we worry about him b-b-b-be-cause he’s Declan.”

Kurt nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“And let’s be honest, we’re not always like this. We’re still coming off of his surgery, and his new s-s-s-sp-eech routine, and all that b-b-b-business. It’ll be normal again soon.”

“You’re right, I know you’re right.”

“And if I’m not right,” Blaine says brightly, “We’ll b-b-b-buy her love for Christmas.”

“Good plan. That’s why you’re the brains of the operation,” Kurt says with a smile.

Blaine smiles too, and kisses him.

“I know it’s still a bit of a ways off, but what do you want for Christmas?” Kurt asks, changing the subject to something a little lighter.

“All I want for Christmas,” Blaine pauses dramatically.

“Is you?” Kurt interrupts.

“No, I was going to say I w-w-wwant to grow a b-b-b-beard. All I really want this Christmas is p-p-per-per-mission to grow a beard.”

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response.”

Blaine makes a sad face, but decides not to pursue it further yet. He’s laying the groundwork, Kurt is bound to give in by Christmas.

“Night, dumdum.”

“Night, poop.”


	2. Chapter 2

To: Kurt, From: Blaine  
Date: Thu, Oct 25, 12:17 pm  
Subject: Just so you know.

If the adoption works out, everyone’s invited to our new house for Christmas.

EVERYONE. Burt and Carole, my parents, Cooper and Kat, Finn and Kristin, all those kids.

IT WILL BE AWESOME.

~~~~~

To: Blaine, From: Kurt  
Date: Thu, Oct 25, 12:22 pm  
Subject: re: Just so you know.

DO NOT JINX IT.

I WILL PUNCH YOU.

~~~~~

To: Kurt, From: Blaine  
Date: Fri, Nov 16, 8:23 am  
Subject: remember?

My awesome Christmas idea?

I was thinking about it on my way to work and it is so on!!!!!

I have a plan and everything. This is just for a night or two, after that they can all go get hotel rooms, or go home, or whatever. I don’t even care.

But wouldn’t it be great if everyone could be together Christmas morning? With like the tree, and the kids, the grandparents, and the presents, and a big breakfast?

So, we give up our room to Burt and Carole. My mom and dad take the guest room. Coop and Kat take Addie’s room. We take Declan’s bunk beds (me on the top one, of course). Finn and Kristin will take the pull out in the family room. They’ve slept on it in the apartment, I’m sure they can deal this time.

Then the kids can all sleep like puppies in the basement. And if we sleep in Declan’s room, this way if he’s nervous about all the other kids, we can just bring him in with us.

It’s perfect! You know it. I’m a genius.

How’s Declan? How are you guys doing today? I’ll call you at lunch.

~~~~~

12:02 pm

Hey poop.

Hey fella.

Sorry I never got back to your email. We were picking Addie up from school.

No p-p-problem. How’s Dec?

He’s sitting quietly in the corner, playing by himself, and ignoring me.

Well, that’s good.

No it’s not! Why won’t he be my friend?

Kurt, imagine how excited we would be, be, be, be if Addie p-p-p-layed quietly in the corner?

Addie’s already my friend!

I’m rrrrr-rolling my eyes.

You don’t care! Declan likes you more than me.

B-b-b-b-be-cause it’s a competition.

It is!

What’s he playing wwww-w-ith?

Matchbox cars.

Approach him sssss-lowly, make sure he sees you, so that you dah-dah-don’t startle him, and sit down and put your hand out for a, a, a, a car.

He never gives me cars.

Kurt, we’ve only had him for like … eight d-d-d-days, don’t you think “never” is a b-b-b-b-it of an overstatement?

I’m sorry, who did he hug this morning? Not me!

Fine whatever. If he wah-wah, wah, wah-won’t hand you one, then point to one and nod, and hopefully he’ll nod b-b-b-back or something, and then you just start playing.

But what if he doesn’t want to play with me?

So, what you’re telling me, in your poutiest voice, is, is, is that you’re so worried about our newly adopted not even 3 year old son r-r-r-rejecting you, that you won’t even try to p-p-p-p-lay with him?

Yes.

Get off the phone and go play with Declan!

Did you just yell at me?

Yes.

Then I guess I better do what you say.

Text mmmm-me about how it goes.

Alright, love you.

Wait! B-b-b-before you go!

What?

What’s he doing right this ssssss-second? In dah-detail, so I can picture it.

[Kurt huffs a sigh, but smiles.] He’s on the far side of the couch in the family room with his back to me, running a blue car up the woodwork.

Thanks. Love you, dumdum.

Love you too, poop.

~~~~~

12:31 pm  
Kurt: I asked for the car and he threw it at me.

12:35 pm  
Blaine: No! That’s not good.  
Blaine: Did you tell him not to do that?

12:37 pm  
Kurt: I said “no” in sign language and shook my head about 800 times and he laughed at me.  
Kurt: And then I pretended to cry.  
Kurt: And he laughed at me.  
Kurt: Then I threw myself on the floor and continued pretending to cry.

12:42 pm  
Blaine: And he laughed at you?

12:44 pm  
Kurt: No, Addie sat on my head, and then Declan sat on my butt when she prompted him to.

12:45 pm  
Blaine: Let’s call it progress!

12:47 pm  
Kurt: Now he’s playing with Addie.

12:48 pm  
Blaine: That’s good Kurt. Addie’s good with him. He understands her.  
Blaine: I have to go back to work, but go sit with them, and just be normal.  
Blaine: Addie will show him that he shouldn’t be afraid of you.

12:50 pm  
Kurt: Grumble, grumble.

12:51 pm  
Blaine: Grumble, grumble your face.

12:52 pm  
Kurt: That doesn’t even make sense.

12:53 pm  
Blaine: GO PLAY WITH YOUR CHILDREN.  
Blaine: Keep me updated on any progress.

1:07 pm  
Kurt: He’s ignoring me.

1:53 pm  
Kurt: Still ignoring me.

2:44 pm  
Kurt: HE HUGGED ADDIE.  
Kurt: OMG IT WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER.  
Kurt: AHHHHHHHHHH.

3:30 pm  
Blaine: Pics or it didn’t happen.

4:26 pm  
Kurt: Did you make the train?

4:29 pm  
Blaine: Yeah, I’ll be coming in at 5:17.

4:50 pm  
Kurt: Sounds good to me.

5:02 pm  
Blaine: This commute is going to kill me.  
Blaine: Remind me to look for a new job.

5:04 pm  
Kurt: But what about your tenure?

5:05 pm  
Blaine: Screw it. I need more sleep and less time on trains.

5:07 pm  
Kurt: I’m not gonna argue with you.

5:15 pm  
Blaine: See you in minute!

~~~~~

Blaine gets into the warm car, and sees two smiling kids in the backseat. Addie’s even holding Declan’s hand. (Which might actually be the cutest thing Blaine has ever seen.) He smiles and waves at them and then leans over to give Kurt a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Daddy,” Addie says.

“Hey, little girl.”

“I like your red scarf,” she says, swinging her and Declan’s hands.

“Thank you very m-much,” he says, smiling at Kurt who recently insisted on buying it for him.

“How was ssss-chool today?” Blaine asks, as Kurt pulls out of the train station parking lot.

Addie starts talking, and Blaine listens intently, though he looks at Declan, who’s staring out the window, several times.

“Did you have fun playing with Declan?”

“Yes! He’s my brother now.”

Blaine smiles. “I, I, I heard. That’s great. So, you like him?”

She grins like a crazy woman and nods, so excited that she can’t stop herself from leaning against the restraints of her car seat.

They’re at a stoplight, and Declan is watching the twinkling Christmas lights chase each other around the town Christmas tree. Blaine tugs on Declan’s foot, and makes a sign for “lights” and then points at the tree. Declan looks at Blaine, his expression confused, and then looks out at the tree again. He makes the sign for tree.

Blaine’s heart melts for the thousandth time in the past 8 days.

Because he went deaf at 18 months, he has a teeny, tiny bit of speech, mostly “no” and “Deh,” which is what he calls himself. They said when he first went into foster care he would ask for his mom a lot, but neither Blaine nor Kurt have heard him say anything resembling “mom.”

As for his sign language, it’s basic, rudimentary. He was in a group home for a while, and they taught him about 25, maybe 30 signs, but it’s not enough to have a conversation with him. Blaine has tried. After the new year, Declan will start an early intervention program, and hopefully that will get them on the road to communicating. They were going to put him in school immediately, but it seemed more important to get him acclimated at home before sending him off everyday. So Kurt took family leave for the next six weeks so he could be home with Declan.

Blaine signs tree back, because he’s right, it is a tree. Then he makes the sign for “lights,” and then signs “around,” even though he’s pretty sure Declan doesn’t know it.

Addie’s watching Blaine’s hands in the dim car, and she signs too. She already knows the ASL alphabet and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in sign language, thanks to a pre-school teacher who thought it was great for hand eye coordination, but she’s trying to pick up everything Blaine says. It’s apparent that she really wants to learn. Declan watches both of them, points out the window, and signs tree again.

Before they can discuss the concept further, the light turns green and Kurt pulls away, leaving Declan with a vaguely perturbed look on his face. Declan puts his hand towards Addie, and he holds onto her the rest of the way to the pizza place, and then for the ride home.

Once they get home and settled, Blaine cuts a slice of pizza up for Declan who eats the crust and then plays with the cheese, licking the tomato sauce from his fingers as he goes. Addie on the other hand eats one slice and then begs for another, because she also wants to play with the cheese, now that she sees it’s an option. Kurt nips that in the bud, and asks her to please stop playing with her food.

“So, you, um, you ssss-till haven’t told me what you think of m-m-my Christmas idea,” Blaine says, and Kurt can tell he’s a bit nervous.

Kurt sighs. “It sounds like a lot of work, and far too many people.” He hates to be the bad guy, hates to be the naysayer, but somebody has to be.

“Oh, come on.” Blaine frowns dramatically.

Kurt shakes his head.

“Hey, Addie,” Blaine starts, turning to face her.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare, don’t you dare,” Kurt mutters.

“Wouldn’t it b-b-be awesome if, if, if everyone from Ohio came to our house for Christmas?”

“Yes!” she shouts. “Yes, yes. Please, please, please, please!”

“Dad ssss-ays we can’t,” Blaine tells her with a grimace.

“Noooooooo!” she yells. “Please, Dad! Please!”

“If we weren’t at the dinner table in front of our children, I might actually punch you, Blaine,” Kurt mumbles.

“I want Mama and Pop, and Gigi and Bumpy, and everyone to come. And then I can show them to Declan!”

“And then she can show them to Declan,” Blaine repeats.

“Addie,” Kurt says, seriously. “Don’t you think Declan will be scared, having all those strangers in his house, when he’s still just getting used to us?”

The three of them look at Declan, who’s currently nibbling at what’s left of his cheese and giggling for no apparent reason.

“I think he’ll be okay if I help him,” Addie tells Kurt. She leans back in her chair and stares at him.

“It’s going to be loud and crowded and busy. You’ll have to give up your room to some of the grownups, and Daddy thinks you should sleep on the floor in the basement.”

She crosses her arms. “I like the basement,” she says primly. “And Declan won’t care if it’s loud.”

Kurt presses his lips together. “That’s not a bad point.”

“And they’re all d-d-d-dying to, to, to meet him, dumdum,” Blaine says.

Addie giggles. “Dumdum.”

“Just don’t call anyone at ssss-chool that,” Blaine reminds her.

“Yeah, we don’t need a repeat of last year’s parent teacher conference,” Kurt adds.

Addie nods enthusiastically.

“Please can everyone come for Christmas, dumdum?” she says, pouting.

Kurt rolls his eyes, and looks over at Blaine, who’s giving him sad puppy eyes.

“Fine! I don’t care. Fine!” Kurt concedes. “You beat me. Bring them on. All of them. Every last crazy relative.”

His only hope is that they all realize how crazy it is, too.

~~~~~

To: Everyone, From: Blaine  
Date: Sun, Nov 18, 2:48 pm  
Subject: Christmas

Hello everyone!

Kurt and I would like to cordially invite you to our home for Christmas this year. We are aware that it’s a lot to ask of everyone, seeing as how you’re all in Ohio and we’re at least a (very) lengthy car ride away.

I know there are a lot of us, but it’s our first Christmas with Declan, and we’d really love to spend it in our new home.

Kurt and I actually have it worked out where everyone would have accomodations. We understand if you don’t want to stay packed in our house for more than a night or two, but we would love for everyone to stay Christmas Eve, so that we’re all together Christmas morning.

I know it’s corny, and maybe even crazy (Kurt thinks I’m crazy), but I would really love if we could do this.

Let me know what you guys think.

Love, Blaine

~~~~~

To: Blaine, From: Mom  
CC: Everyone  
Date: Sun, Nov 18, 3:24 pm  
Subject: re: Christmas

Dad and I would *love* to come!

Would it be okay if we brought Bob Barker with us? I just hate the idea of leaving him in the kennel at Christmas.

We can’t wait to meet Declan! So exciting. We’ll come for the weekend for sure, maybe stay through the week in a hotel and do some fun tourist-y stuff with you guys and the kids if you’re up for it.

Love, Mom

~~~~~

To: Blaine, From: Kurt  
Date: Sun, Nov 18, 3:27 pm  
Subject: A world of no.

Your mother can not bring her damn yappy dog.

~~~~~

To: Blaine, From: Kristin  
CC: Everyone  
Date: Sun, Nov 18, 5:53 pm  
Subject: re: Christmas

The four Hudson’s will be there for sure! Can you handle us for three or four nights? If not, we’ll head to hotel for a couple of those nights. Finn and I volunteer to take the pullout. It’s not nearly as bad as everyone Cooper says it is.

Can’t wait to see you guys!

~~~~~

To: Blaine, From: Burt  
CC: Everyone  
Date: Sun, Nov 18, 8:22 pm  
Subject: re: Christmas

Carole and I will be there. We can’t wait to meet the little guy!

We’ll figure out our plans and get back to you, but count us in for Christmas Eve at your house at the very least.

Love to you guys!

~~~~~

To: Kurt, From: Blaine  
Date: Sun, Nov 18, 9:01 pm  
Subject: re: A world of no.

Oh, come on, fella. Be a pal. Let my mom bring Bob.

~~~~~

To: Blaine, From: Cooper  
CC: Everyone  
Date: Mon, Nov 19, 7:17 am  
Subject: re: Christmas

That pullout sofa is a menace! I swear one time it ate my shoe.

We’re in! The kids are ridiculously excited to meet their new cousin. I’m pretty sure Sabine is currently crying with joy.

Nope wait, I think Jasper is pretending to stab her.

I should go.

~~~~~

To: Everyone, From: Blaine  
Date: Mon, Nov 19, 7:48 am  
Subject: re: Christmas

We’re so glad that everyone is willing to come!

Mom- sure, of course you can bring Bob!

Kristin- Thanks for volunteering to take the pullout. And you guys are welcome for as long as we can all stand each other, as always.

Cooper- It did not eat your shoe.

Burt- Hi! You didn’t ask any questions/make any derogatory comments about my pull out couch, but I didn’t want to ignore you.

When I told Addie that everyone is coming she started to explain to Declan who you are by drawing pictures. They’re not the most flattering portraits, but try not to be offended.

~~~~~

To: Everyone, From: Kurt  
Date: Tues, Nov 20, 10:58 am  
Subject: re: Christmas

Blaine and Addie are extremely excited about having everyone for Christmas. And I’m really excited to see everyone too, but I just have a couple of reservations, and I wanted to make sure I say my piece.

I’m not discouraging this event. Not in the least. That’s my disclaimer before anyone calls me a party pooper. But there are certain realities that I just wanted to express before everyone arrives.

Declan is … hesitant. We don’t have many communication options with him yet, and we’re working on it together. He’s only been with us for a few weeks, and things are getting better, but he’s still nervous. He doesn’t really engage much.

I think having everyone meet him is a great idea, I just don’t want any hurt feelings when he shies away. (I’m talking to you, Dad.)

I also wanted to let everyone know that he’s very nervous around tall people. Luckily Blaine and I are on the shorter side, but 6’3” Matt came over recently, and Declan hid under the kitchen table until he left. He couldn’t be coaxed out even when Matt sat on the ground. Yes, this note is aimed at Finn. You might have to spend a lot of time hunched over.

I suppose the good news is that our inclination to be a loud family won’t be a problem, but try to remember, and impress this upon the kids if you can, that yelling at him doesn’t do anything. He’s not going to hear you no matter how loudly or slowly you speak.

I’m very excited for everyone to come. I’m very, very excited for everyone to meet Declan, but I just wanted to put this all out there before the day comes, and it ends in disappointment or tears. We’ve seen that before. Let us all remember the Anderson/Hummel/Hudson Thanksgiving Riot of 2023. We haven’t been the same since.

Kurt

~~~~~

After that, time moves quickly. Blaine is getting ready for the winter concert at school, and Kurt spends his days bonding with Declan, watching sign language instructional videos, and keeping Addie from bouncing out of her skin with excitement about Christmas.

Several days before Christmas, Blaine and Kurt sit Addie down on the couch in the family room to discuss the upcoming visit.

“So, Addie,” Kurt starts seriously. He knows if they appeal to her better nature, Addie will be extremely helpful with Declan all weekend. They’ve found over the course of Addie’s young life that she responds best when they take her seriously. So they make a point to talk to her about things, ask her questions, ask for her opinions, rather than just telling her about things.

“Everyone is going to start coming for Christmas this weekend,” Kurt continues.

She nods seriously.

“We need your help,” Blaine tells her.

“Okay!” she exclaims, pumping her fist in the air and making to jump off the couch.

“Wait, we didn’t even tell you what w-w-we need your help with,” Blaine says.

“Oh. I thought you just meant that I should dust the house, or wash the carpet in my room or something,” she explains.

“First of all, don’t ever wash the carpet in your room. Carpets get vacuumed unless we call in professional steamers. Second of all, we need your help to make sure Declan isn’t overwhelmed. Do you know what overwhelmed means?” Kurt asks. He’s not condescending with her, but he has a certain affect that he slips into when he’s in dad mode. Blaine finds it extremely sexy.

Addie makes a thinking face, and taps a finger on her chin. “Like to be scared? So I should make sure that Declan’s not scared? And that he’s okay? And not hiding under the table all the time from Uncle Finn?”

Blaine can’t hide how impressed he is. “That’s exactly what we mmmmm-ean,” he tells her.

“I can do that.”

“And can you do us another favor? And don’t act shy around the grownups? You know all of them. And if you act happy and hug them, then Declan will know not to be afraid,” Kurt says.

This is all part of their plan. Addie very, very rarely acts shy around adults, but they want all of her actions to be big and obvious, and observed by Declan. It’s really difficult not to be able to tell him things. Both of his dads are looking forward to Declan starting school and becoming immersed in sign language so they can really start communicating with him. But for now, they’re going to try to use Addie as their puppet. She’s such a drama queen it might just work.

She gives them a withering look, and crosses her arms. “I’m never shy.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Kurt says.

“Remember that time that DiDi and Ben came over? And they b-b-b-rought you a present and you wouldn’t talk to them?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah, but I was like three and a half. And now I’m five. And I’m not afraid of DiDi or Ben any more. Or anybody else.”

“Okay. Well, you can prove it to us this weekend,” Kurt says.

She frowns at them. “I most definitely will,” she says imperiously. “I think I would like to go play now.”

“Excellent. Thank you, little girl,” Blaine says.

“You’re very welcome, poop.” Then she turns to Kurt and bows. “Dumdum.” And then she runs away.

“She makes things too easy sometimes,” Kurt say watching her go.

“Are we mmmm-man-manipulating her?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shrugs. “Whatever, we need to use her powers for good instead of evil. She sat on my head again the other day. And Declan just laughed and laughed.”

Blaine laughs when Addie does that too. Sometimes he’ll think about it in the middle of the day and burst out laughing at work. But right now he just shakes his head solemnly.

Burt and Carole arrive just before noon the next day. When they ring the doorbell, Addie runs to the door to open it and throws herself into Burt’s arms, shrieking, “Bumpy, Bumpy, I have a brother.”

“I know!” Burt responds, holding her up on his hip. “Is he hiding?”

She looks around, confused. “He was right here a minute ago.”

Blaine and Kurt come into the foyer then, but Declan hangs back a bit, peaking around the doorway from the kitchen.

Greetings are exchanged, hugs all around and Kurt compliments Carole’s new haircut. Burt complains that no one ever compliments his haircut, which prompts Addie to steal his hat and run away.

They move into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Blaine offers.

“Oh god, yes please,” Burt groans. “We decided to split the trip this time and stayed at a hotel in the middle of Pennsylvania last night. But Carole was so excited this morning she had me up and checked out by 6 am.”

Kurt makes a face. “Addie was so excited she was dancing in our room at 3 am, but we forced her to go back to sleep.”

“I should have forced Carole to go back to sleep,” Burt mumbles, settling in a kitchen chair while Kurt runs around in circles gathering the supplies to make coffee. Blaine can already see Kurt’s frantic panic setting about the holiday and only two of their guests have arrived. He’ll have to figure out a way to nip that in the bud later.

“I was just excited! And look at that face!” Carole exclaims, interrupting Blaine’s thoughts. She leans over the kitchen island to get a better view of Declan in the family room.

“I can’t r-r-r-re-resist his face,” Blaine admits to Carole, standing next to her. Addie and Declan are in the family room. She’s talking to him non-stop and pretending to sign, making big, bold movements with her arms. And then she signs “bumpy” by making a bumpy motion with her hand. Declan’s looking at her like she has 6 heads.

She smiles and turns to Blaine, rubbing his arm. “So how are you boys doing?”

“We’re good, we’re rrrrrr-eally good,” he says honestly. “Would you like the grand tour while we wait for the coffee to b-breh-brew?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Hey, Addie girl, wanna give Gigi and Bumpy a, a, a tour of the house with mmmm-me? Show them where to put their b-b-bags?” Blaine’s hoping that Declan will follow them. He’s started following Addie pretty much everywhere lately.

“Yes!” she yells, jumping up, startling Declan with her sudden movement. She pauses and puts her hand out for him. He takes it, but looks up at her dubiously.

“We’re going to show Gigi and Bumpy the house,” she tells him, making the letter “g” in sign language twice and then making her bumpy hand gesture from earlier.

He scrunches his nose at her, but follows.

Addie walks around the house, pointing at things like she’s a game hostess with her right hand, and keeping Declan in a death grip with her left. Declan doesn’t seem to mind, though when the tour stops in his room, he decides to stay there to play with his trains. Burt decides to do the same. When Addie finishes showing Carole every last closet and bathroom and book shelf, Blaine takes a peek back into Declan’s room, where he finds Burt on the floor with his arms and legs out, and Declan driving his train over him like he’s a mountain.

Blaine takes a picture. He shouldn’t be surprised that Burt won Declan’s attention that quickly. Burt sees Blaine in the doorway and waves a hand, without disrupting Declan’s game.

Blaine wanders back downstairs with a smile on his face.

They have a quiet afternoon, and spend the evening watching every Christmas special that’s on tv. Carole offers to cook dinner to give Kurt a break, and Blaine is thrilled when Kurt accepts her offer. Carole makes the best chicken on earth.

The next day, Blaine’s parents arrive mid-afternoon, followed minutes later by Finn and his family.

“Oh man!” Finn says to Greg in lieu of greeting as he pumps his hand and slaps his back. “I thought for sure we were going to beat you! I thought we passed you up in Pennsylvania.”

“I think we lost our lead when you stopped at Arby’s,” Kristin says drily.

Everyone is in the foyer, happy to see each other. Addie’s bouncing from foot to foot, excited for all the hugs and kisses. Excited to see her cousins Hannah and Claire. Finn greets Carole and Burt, scooping Kurt into a nearly violent hug, as usual. Blaine hugs his parents, thrilled to see them. Declan stands in the doorway from the kitchen, momentarily forgotten. His eyes are wide as he takes in the people in the foyer.

Finn’s the first to notice to Declan standing by the door. He moves slowly over and kneels down in front of him, trying to make his most innocent expression.

It doesn’t work.

Declan lets out a shriek of terror and runs away from Finn, lunging himself at Kurt’s legs. Kurt swings him into his arms, unable to keep a smile from his face.

“It’s okay,” Kurt bounces Declan a little, humming, smoothing his hair. Declan squeezes Kurt’s neck and tears stream down his face, as little hiccuped sobs escape his throat.

“Did you see that?” he mouths to Blaine.

Blaine gives him a thumbs up.

Finn stands and apologizes. “I really wasn’t trying to scare him.”

Kurt smiles and nods. “I know. It’s not a big deal. This is just how he is.”

“Kurt really doesn’t mind,” Blaine chimes in. “That’s the first time Declan has chosen to go to him over me.”

“Yeah, I might have you scare him again later if he means he’ll let me hug him,” Kurt says to Finn.

Declan settles down, and rests his head on Kurt’s shoulder.

Blaine claps his hands. “How about Addie and I show you guys where you’re staying?”

Addie leaps into action, and she and Blaine go back into tour mode, while Kurt brings Declan into the family room, taking a seat on the couch and arranging him on his lap. Carole busies herself putting on coffee and water for tea. Burt takes a seat next to Kurt on the couch.

“Not easy, huh?” he asks.

Kurt shrugs, still stunned and sort of elated that Declan is allowing him hold him this long. “It is and isn’t. It’s getting a lot easier. I sort of assumed he would warm up to me quicker, since I’m the one who’s home with him all the time. Which is why I was the one who volunteered to take family leave in the first place. Declan immediately liked Blaine, so I wanted to get in some quality time, where I wouldn’t have to fight for his attention.”

Burt nods. “You guys will figure it out.”

“We’re closer already. It’ll be good when he’s in school, when he can start communicating.”

“I’m really impressed, Kurt. Really. So proud of you guys.”

At that moment the rest of the family re-enters the family room.

Hannah plops down on the couch in between Kurt and Burt.

“Where is Sabine?” she asks seriously. She and Sabine are only several months apart in age and basically are inseparable at every family event.

“They’ll be here later,” Kurt says.

“So this is my new cousin Declan?” she asks.

“Yep,” Kurt says with a smile.

“I thought he was a baby?”

“Well, he’ll be three next month, but he needed a new family, so now he lives with us.”

“What happened to his old family?”

“Well, it’s very sad, I don’t want to make you feel sad.”

“I’ll be sad for Declan, but I won’t be too sad.”

“Okay, well,” Kurt glances around and is surprised to find that everyone is watching this interaction. Addie comes over and leans on Kurt’s knee.

“Declan’s mommy died from the same thing that made him not be able to hear,” she tells Hannah knowledgeably. Addie idolizes Hannah and Sabine, who are three years older than her. Kurt can tell she’s taking a twisted sort of pleasure in telling Hannah this sad news. “Would you like a hug? It’s very sad.”

Hannah looks at Addie and then over at Declan, before turning back to Addie and nodding, putting her arms out for a hug.

Addie grins, a bit smug.

Everyone settles in with coffee and tea, milk and cookies and they while away the afternoon.

Addie wanders over to Blaine’s mom. She and all the other kids had been playing on the floor with Bob Barker. Kurt is trying to ignore the dog to the very best of his ability.

“Mama,” she says. “What’s your dog’s name?

“His name is Bob, you know that Addie,” Michelle tells her.

“But Dad calls him Dan all the time. He says ‘that Dan dog never stops yapping,’ and ‘that Dan dog better not shed all over my rugs.’”

Michelle’s eyes go wide, and Greg starts laughing hysterically, followed by just about everyone else in the room.

“Not the biggest Bob Barker fan there, Kurt?” Greg asks.

Kurt smiles, blushing fiercely, and says “I’m going to go, um …” He stands to pour himself more coffee. “I’m going to take the high road on this one, Greg.”

“Totally understand, Kurt,” Greg says with a wink. He drapes his arm around Michelle’s chair, who turns to give him a dirty look. He shrugs at her and makes what he hopes is an innocent face.

When Kurt comes back in from the kitchen a few minutes later, he’s shocked by the scene of Declan giggling and playing with Bob. When Bob tries to get away from him, Declan follows. His hands are gentle when he plays with Bob, and his face is the picture of delight.

“Look how much Declan likes Bob!” Addie exclaims, tugging on Kurt’s arm.

“I see that,” Kurt says. He wonders idly if Declan had a dog at some point. He looks over at Blaine, who only has eyes for Declan at the moment.

A few hours later, Cooper and Katinka arrive with their kids in tow, Jasper, Sabine, and Elliot.

It feels like the fun is finally about to begin.

~~~~~

The next day, Christmas Eve, passes in a blur of baking and cooking, music and laughter. Blaine is delighted with how the family is getting along. It’s nothing like Thanksgiving of 2023.

Addie keeps cornering Kurt and telling him about how much Declan loves Bob. How she thinks maybe they should get a dog for Declan. Kurt keeps putting her off with empty platitudes of agreement.

After dinner and movies and too many cookies, the parents get all the kids settled in the basement. Blaine and Cooper stay down there for a while, making sure the kids are okay. When Blaine is satisfied that Declan is sleeping soundly, he signals to Cooper that he’s going upstairs for a minute. Cooper nods and yawns.

When Blaine emerges into the family room he finds a tableau that just screams family to him. Kristin, Kurt and Burt are slumped together on the couch, Katinka in the recliner, Finn spread across the floor with Bob curled up next to him, and a muted Christmas classic playing on tv. He can hear his mom and Carole chatting quietly in the living room as he makes his way into the kitchen, where he finds his father putting water on to boil.

“Hey,” Blaine says.

“Tea?” his dad offers.

“I’m pretty sure I’m sssss-supposed to offer you tea, seeing as how this is m-m-my house and, and, and you’re the guest,” Blaine says with a grin.

His dad shrugs. “I can make tea. I’m a man of many talents.”

They’re quiet for a minute or two, but not uncomfortably. It’s just who they are.

“It’s a nice house you have here, Blaine,” his dad says, breaking the silence.

Blaine glances around and smiles. “Thanks. I-I-I-I can imagine living here for a long time.”

“I’ve been thinking lately that it might be time for mom and I to move actually. Our house is way too big for the two of us.”

Blaine nods. He’s not surprised.

“They’re building some great condos closer to Cooper’s area,” Greg continues. “It’d be nice. To live closer to them.”

Blaine tries not to feel guilty. When he and Kurt were looking into moving out of the city, they seriously considered moving back to Ohio. It seemed like a very real option, both of them liked the idea of living close to their families, for Addie and Declan to grow up near their cousins and their aunts and uncles and grandparents. But when it came down to it, neither of them could imagine leaving the city that had changed their lives. Even if they settled in the suburbs of New Jersey, the city was still just a train ride away.

Matt and Julia stayed in the area, also deciding to raise their kids in the suburbs, and Puck and Rachel live out on Long Island. Their friends that were like family were important, too. But sometimes, Blaine wishes he lived closer to his parents, particularly as they age, and he’s pretty sure Kurt feels the same way.

“That’s good, Pop. That s-s-s-sounds great,” Blaine says, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him.

Greg smiles and then busies himself pouring the tea and they sit down at the kitchen table. “That Addie of yours never fails to make me laugh. Yesterday with that stuff about the dog, you think she knew what she was doing? Calling Kurt out like that?”

“You know,” Blaine says, and then considers his father’s words. “I, I, I have no idea. I wouldn’t p-put it puh-puh-past her. Since then she’s put all of, of, of her energy into convincing Kurt that Declan needs a dd-dd-dog. She’s definitely b-b-bra-bra-breaking him down.”

Greg chuckles. “How much do you want a dog, Blaine?”

“Scale of 1 to 10?” Blaine asks.

His dad nods.

“Bout an 11.”

His dad laughs loudly this time, and so does Blaine. Loud enough that he hears Kurt grumble in the family room about how some people just don’t have inside voices.

“It’s not like you can nap mmmm-uch longer anyway, dumdum,” Blaine calls from the kitchen. “We st-st-still have Santa-ing to do tonight.”

“Five more minutes,” Kurt mutters sleepily.

Blaine turns back to his dad.

“Anyway, he’ll give in to her in, in, in no time. He can’t r-r-resist her.”

Greg nods.

Blaine’s quiet for a minute, trying to come up with a way to phrase the question he desperately wants his father to answer.

“Do you, um, do you, I mean,” Blaine stops to clear his throat and collects his thoughts. “What d-d-do you think of Declan?”

Greg looks at Blaine, examining him in the overhead kitchen light. “I think he’s amazing. I think you’re doing a remarkable thing for him. I think to hear about him over the phone or through email or skype doesn’t compare to seeing him in real life. You and Kurt are going to make such a difference in this little boy’s life, Blaine.”

His father pauses, to swipe at his eyes behind his glasses. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you.”

Blaine blushes, and can’t quite look at his dad for a few seconds, so he closes his eyes and lets his father’s words wash over him.

Blaine has a moment where he remembers that things with his father haven’t always been like this. But there’s a difference now, because when he has those kinds of thoughts as an adult it’s never about focusing on the negative in the past, it’s more about focusing on the change that happened. On how hard they worked together to get to this point.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“It’s the truth, Blaine,” he gives Blaine’s shoulder a squeeze and they enjoy their tea in relative silence. At least until it’s time to put out the presents from Santa.

Christmas morning the kids wake up ridiculously early, of course, lead by Addie’s battle cry of “We have presents!”

As if any of the kids doubted that Santa would find them.

Cooper did mention to Blaine that he’s really proud of Jasper, the oldest of the grandchildren at 11, for keeping his mouth shut about Santa.

“I keep waiting for him to be a know-it-all with Sabine and Elliot,” Cooper had told Blaine the day before.

The adults scatter sleepily around the edges of the room, and the kids dive in, with various calls of, “One present at a time, take turns!”

They end up going in age order, letting Declan go first. Addie hands him a present and he looks around at everyone watching him and runs over to Kurt and Blaine, who are sharing a chair, and buries himself between their legs.

“Go ahead, Elliot,” Kurt says. “Declan’s not so good with the limelight.”

Elliott nods and grabs for the biggest box with his name on it.

Kurt and Blaine help Declan unwrap a book from GiGi. It’s a story told through text and sign. The boys “oh” and “ah” over it because it really it’s such a thoughtful gift. Carole says there are actually several more books like it under the tree, but when his dads tell him to go get another present Declan just looks at them and points at the book, as if to say “This is more than enough, thank you.”

Blaine crawls over and grabs a few presents for Declan, and watches as the other kids open their gifts. Addie claps delightedly when she opens up a Pancake Chef Barbie, the most specific thing that she had on her Christmas list.

“I love pancakes!” she shouts.

They do a few more controlled circuits, but then pretty much chaos breaks loose and then kids just unwrap everything in sight.

Declan slides to the floor and joins in the fun, giggling and tearing into the gifts that are place in front of him. When everyone calms down, Carole and Michelle offer to go work on breakfast and the rest of the family helps the kids clean up the wrapping paper, hoping that nothing gets thrown out in the mess. (Something always gets thrown out. This year it was a pair of earrings that Finn bought for Kristin. They found them later, luckily near the top of the garbage can.)

After breakfast, the kids seem to lull themselves into an odd sort of quiet. A late night coupled with an early morning seems to be working it’s charm, as they all find places to lay out and examine their gifts. Elliot even falls asleep on Cooper’s lap while telling him about his new handheld video game.

Kurt and Blaine return to their previously shared chair, snuggly fitting next to each other.

“You’re lucky my ass hasn’t gotten too much bigger in the past 15 years,” Blaine whispers.

“You can’t say ass in a roomful of children,” Kurt whispers back.

Their light bickering would have continued, but Blaine nudges Kurt to look over to the corner of the room where Addie and Declan are sitting together, leaned against the wall. She’s reading to him from one of the books Carole bought Declan, reading the words, and then pointing to the pictures and making the signs.

Declan watches her hands, mimicking the signs. He looks up at her face every once in a while, touching her mouth when she speaks. He does that to all of them sometimes. They think he likes the rush of air that comes from their mouths.

Addie pretends to bite his hand and Declan laughs, pulling away momentarily, before deciding that sitting next to her isn’t close enough. He rolls himself onto her lap, trying to sneak under her arm. Addie giggles at his silliness and Declan smiles.

When the story’s over, Declan flips the book over and wants Addie to read it again. And she’s happy to oblige. This time around, Declan points at the pictures and makes the signs before Addie even gets to that point on the page.

“Are those the right signs?” Kurt whispers to Blaine.

Blaine nods, his eyes filling with tears.

“House. Dog. Flower. Baby. They’re all right,” Blaine tells him, grasping Kurt’s hands in his own.

“We’re really going to do this,” Kurt says.

Blaine looks at him quizzically.

“I mean, we’re going to succeed at this,” Kurt amends.

“We are,” Blaine agrees.

A minute later, Burt says he wants a picture of the boys with their kids. Addie gestures towards the chair and pulls Declan over. She hops up onto Blaine’s lap and Declan, after only a moment’s hesitation, scrambles onto Kurt’s.

Burt tells them to smile, miming the word at Declan, who leans back against Kurt’s chest. Kurt brushes his hands over Declan’s hair, and then pulls on Addie’s braid. He gives Blaine a peck on the cheek and Burt takes the picture.

~~~~~

Kurt feels a hand on his face, raising his eyelid. He shakes his head and bats it away.

“Poop,” he warns, voice gravelly with sleep.

“It’s not Poop, it’s me!” says a little voice.

“What is it Addie?”

“It’s the day after Christmas!”

“Yay,” Kurt says weakly. He and Blaine are still sleeping in Declan’s room. Last night Dec wanted nothing to do with the basement and the other kids, so he’s currently sharing the bottom bunk with Kurt. At least Addie’s voice won’t wake him up.

“And you said we could get a dog after Christmas!”

“Oh dear lord, did I say that?” Kurt asks, his eyes finally opening wide.

“Yes. You said dogs cost money, and that it’s great that Declan loves Bob, and maybe we could get a dog after Christmas.”

“I didn’t mean at 5:30 in the morning on December 26th, little girl.”

“Why not?”

“Because the, um, the dog store isn’t even open right now.” His brain is not awake enough to outsmart Addie right now. Hopefully he can get her to climb up in the top bunk with Blaine and maybe go back to sleep for a little while.

“When does it open?”

“I don’t know for sure. Probably not for a while.” The real answer is never. The dog store will never open because they are not getting a dog.

“I brought all my money,” she says, voice quivering. “And I put on my boots.”

Kurt sits up, able to see Addie fully now with her polka dot piggy bank, still in her night gown, wearing her new snow boots. Kurt smiles and shakes his head.

“You know it’s not snowing out, right?”

“I know. But I like these,” she says, modeling them for Kurt.

“So you want to give all your money to us so that we can buy Declan a dog?” Kurt asks.

Addie nods seriously.

“Why?”

“Because he likes dogs. And Bob made him smile, and sometimes he seems sad. I don’t want him to be sad. I want him to be happy.”

Kurt moves down the bed, trying not to jar Declan, and then pats the mattress, gesturing for Addie to sit on the edge. 

“You don’t think he’s happy?”

She shrugs.

“And you think a dog will make him happy?”

She looks up at him and nods, her eyes wet with tears.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She puts her tiny arms around Kurt’s waist. “I just want everyone to be happy!”

“We are,” he says, smoothing her hair. “Look at Dec right now. He’s fine. He’s sleeping. I bet he’s having a really good dream about his new big sister. And think about it this way. How much do you remember from before you were three, really?”

She sits up. “Daddy and I went to Paris to see you.”

“You were almost four when you did that.”

“Um. We went to the beach?”

“Yes, we went to the beach. But we’ve gone to the beach a lot, are you sure you remember going when you were very little?”

She shrugs again.

“What I’m trying to explain to you is that maybe right now, Declan remembers not so happy stuff, but soon, he’ll start forgetting that and he’ll remember happier things. Like being with us. He’s still pretty little. He’ll probably forget about this sadness.”

She nods. “About his mommy dying?”

“I think he kind of already forgot about that,” Kurt assures her.

“I just want him to be happier.”

“I think he’ll seem happier soon.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you take off your boots and I’ll put you up in the top bunk with Daddy?”

She kicks off her boots and throws her arms in the air so Kurt can hoist her up. Blaine mumbles something unintelligible as Kurt sets her down, and then pulls her under the covers.

Kurt gets back in the bottom bunk, kind of amazed that Declan slept through all that.

A few minutes later, he hears Blaine whisper to Addie, “So we’re totally getting a dog right?”

Addie giggles, and everyone falls back to sleep.

Several hours later, and all of the family has left. The grandparents headed for hotels and plan to stay the rest of the week, but Cooper’s and Finn’s families both set off back to Ohio.

Somehow Bob got left at the house while Michelle and Greg went to settle in at the hotel.

Kurt leans on the kitchen island, drinking a cup of coffee and watching Declan in the family room with Bob.

“It’s hard to d-d-d-deny, he loves that dog,” Blaine says, leaning next to him.

“He does,” Kurt agrees. “But I don’t really want a dog. I don’t want to walk it, and feed it, and oh God, clean up its crap.”

“You won’t do it alone. I’ll help.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“What? I help!”

“You’re hardly around during the week. You leave the house at 6 in the morning and don’t get back until after 5 at night. And you go to bed just a few hours later.”

Blaine nods. He knows he’s not around much.

“And I’m going to have to go back to work soon. There’s just no time for a dog.”

“What if you didn’t go b-b-b-back to work?”

Kurt snorts. “How would we afford that?”

“Well, you’d have to, to, to pick up freelance stuff, maybe something part time, but we could do it. I have great health insurance. Our mmmm-mortgage is actually less than our rent was in the city.” Blaine shrugs. “If I find a closer job that pays comparably, we would save almost 300 dollars a month just on my commute. We’d have to ssss-seriously run some numbers, maybe cut some things here and there, buh-buh-buh-ut I think we could do it.”

“I could be a stay at home dad?” Kurt asks.

“If you want. I-I-I mean, again, we probably shouldn’t make any d-d-decisions right this second. But I’m pretty sure we could ssss-sa-wing it.”

Kurt leans next to Blaine. “So, you were saying something about getting a dog?”

“Don’t let Addie hear you sssss-ay that unless you’re deathly serious.”

“Hey, Addie,” Kurt calls to her where she’s playing on the floor with Declan.

“Are you really doing this?” Blaine murmurs.

“If we got a dog, what would you name it?” Kurt asks.

“Um, Piccolo.”

“Do you even know what a, a, a piccolo is?” Blaine asks.

“It’s a small flute. Sabine plays it.” She pauses and her face lights up. “So are we getting a dog?”

Blaine looks at Kurt, waiting for his answer.

“Fine, yes, we’re getting a dog.”

Addie lets out a whoop of joy and starts jumping up and down. She takes Declan’s hands and makes him jump with her. Bob leaps around at their ankles, barking delightedly. Blaine grins at Kurt and goes to join Addie and Declan.

Kurt puts his face in his hands. He is so outnumbered.


	3. Chapter 3

“Kurt!” Blaine calls, storming into the apartment. Today was the last day of school before Christmas break. He should be thrilled. He should be ecstatic. He has almost two weeks off, thanks to the way the holiday lands. But instead, he’s annoyed, bordering on completely and entirely pissed off.

“Hey!” Kurt says, grinning as he steps out of kitchen. He walks over and kisses Blaine on the cheek. “What’s up?”

Blaine tosses his bag on the couch and then looks at Kurt expectantly while shrugging out of his coat.

“Maybe you should tell me what’s up?” Blaine says, trying to keep the bite out of his voice.

Kurt looks confused.

“Like, mmm-may, maybe you changed our flight to Ohio without telling me? Maybe sss-something like that?” Blaine asks.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says. “I had to make a split second decision.”

“It was so split second you couldn’t even be b-b-bah-bothered to text me?” Blaine asks.

“I’m sorry?” Kurt is getting more and more confused. Blaine never acts like this, about anything.

“You couldn’t be b-b-b-bothered to check if that was okay with me? To have us leave a, a, a, a day earlier?”

“Um,” Kurt starts, wracking his brain.

“Whatever, who cares,” Blaine mutters, making his way into the kitchen and popping a beer.

“Blaine?” Kurt says, trying to sound as innocent as possible. Kurt’s not sure what Blaine is upset about, but he hopes if he stay calm then Blaine will explain and they can talk it out. 

“Kurt?” Blaine says, his voice almost mocking.

“Maybe you want to let me in on whatever your issue is? You know, maybe there’s a good explanation, or … something?”

“Fuck it. You forgot,” Blaine sighs, tossing the cap to his beer a little more forcefully than necessary towards the trash can, not caring when he misses.

As he picks up the beer cap, Kurt runs through the list in his head of everything they needed to do and everyone they needed to see before they left for Ohio. The shopping’s been done since last week, much of it they shipped directly to their respective parent’s houses so they wouldn’t have to bring everything on the plane. They already went to Kurt’s office party, Blaine’s school holiday concert, their neighbor’s cookie exchange … 

“I forgot about your work friends,” Kurt states. 

Blaine nods, hoping it reads as a sarcastic nod. He hops up on the kitchen counter.

“Ah, shit, I’m sorry, poop. I really didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Blaine says, deflating. He’s just not good at being mad at Kurt. That actually kind of annoys him. But even after 5 years, he pretty much melts anytime Kurt calls him poop.

“Finn and his new girlfriend are driving out here for the wedding on the 30th and he offered to pick us up from your parents and give us a ride back. So to use our air miles, I had to switch some stuff around when I canceled our return flight,” Kurt explains gently, moving towards Blaine. “I didn’t have a ton of options.”

It makes so much sense that Blaine can’t help but nod in understanding.

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad at me are you?” Kurt asks flirtatiously as he places his hands lightly on Blaine’s knees.

“Well, I was at least a s-s-seven, but now I’m mmm-more like a three.”

“That’s fair,” Kurt says.

“You just, um,” Blaine starts, he takes a swig of his beer and sets it on the counter. He collects his thoughts. He’s not nervous, he’s never nervous around Kurt. But he wants to make sure that his thoughts come out properly, that he gets his point across. And sometimes he still has trouble with that. Particularly when there’s any type of confrontation involved. 

“Could you like, at least inform of mmm-me things? Maybe? Like, um, like especially when it’s on my credit card and all my contact stuh-stuh, ssss-tuff is with it. I think I would have been less pissed if it didn’t seem like you were going be-be-behind my bah-back.”

“That is a completely legitimate request,” Kurt tells him, rubbing Blaine’s thighs. “And I really am sorry. There’s just so much going on.”

“I know. I, I, I get it. I’m just ssss-sad to miss out on this thing with my friends,” Blaine says.

Kurt nods sympathetically. “Perhaps I could make it up to you. With some chicken? Or a blow job?”

“Why does it have to, to, to be an either/or scenario?” Blaine asks impishly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kurt laughs. 

They kiss.

Crisis averted.

For now.

~~~~~

The flight back to Ohio the next day is quick and surprisingly quiet. They land and Blaine’s mom picks them up from the airport, as usual. They borrow a car and head to Kurt’s house, the plan is to do Christmas Eve with Kurt’s family. Then on Christmas day they drive back to the Anderson’s to spend the next few days there. This year is going to be particularly fun with Blaine’s family because Cooper and Katinka’s son Jasper is turning 2 soon and is really starting to understand the fun of Christmas.

“Buying baby stuff is fun,” Kurt says while they’re driving to Lima.

“It is,” Blaine agrees. “Is that ssss-some kind of hint?”

“It isn’t. But I can’t deny that I’ve been thinking about kids lately,” Kurt admits.

“I would be lying if, if, if you told you I w-w-was there,” Blaine tells him.

“I know. I’m not actually there either. I just like tiny clothes and toys that make animal noises.”

“Cooper’s going to kill us for b-b-buying Jasper a toy that makes noise. He’s b-buh-been going off for a month about a toy piano that one of Kat’s r-r-r-relatives sent from Serbia.”

The boys continue onto more idle chit chat as they drive, though in the back of Blaine’s mind he’s thinking about the idea of children. He does want them. He really does, particularly knowing how much Kurt does. But he’s not ready. And even if Kurt doesn’t think he’s pressuring him, Blaine feels pressure from every angle lately. Work, grad school, “the future,” everything feels big. Not to mention that he’s gotten it into his head that he thinks Kurt’s going to propose to him, but Blaine has always promised himself he’d be the one to propose. When he thinks about everything Kurt has done for him over the years, he feels like Kurt deserves a really wonderfully romantic proposal.

Though Blaine hasn’t been in the right headspace during the past few weeks to even decide when to propose. And he regrets not having thought to get a ring. Not like a diamond or anything, but a token, a promise, a show of faith. But he never got around to it during finals and preparing for the winter concert, so now he just has to hope that Kurt doesn’t beat him to the punch.

“You didn’t hear a word I just said,” Kurt’s voice snaps Blaine back into the car.

Blaine grins sheepishly. “Sorry, my thoughts got loud.”

“They do that a lot lately.”

Blaine shrugs. “Got a lot on my plate.”

Kurt leans across the center console and threads his arm threw Blaine’s. “I know you do. Just,” Kurt pauses here, rubbing Blaine’s arm gently. “Don’t let things bog you down so much. Don’t let things fester until you explode.”

“Nothing’s festering,” Blaine says through gritted teeth. “You have no idea …” Blaine trails off.

“What Blaine?”

“Nothing,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes.

“Of course I have no idea if you don’t tell me things,” Kurt says, trying to keep his voice even.

“There’s nothing to tell. There’s nothing festering. You can’t actually rrrr-read my mind, my mmm-mood, my b-b-body language. I’m not hiding anything. I’m fine.” Blaine says this in a heated rush and Kurt decides to let it go.

“So,” Kurt says, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

“Sew your underwear,” Blaine mutters.

“You spend too much time with 12 year olds,” Kurt says fondly.

“They are mmmm-my people,” Blaine says with a smile. “We all have approximately the same maturity level.”

“No way. You have at least the maturity level of a 15 year old,” Kurt teases.

“Actually, I think I was more m-m-mature at 15 than I am now,” Blaine says.

After that, Blaine keeps his thoughts in the car and his mind present with Kurt. He doesn’t feel like fighting, he’s not in the mood. And the best way to keep them from fighting is to be mindful and attentive. So that Kurt doesn’t start asking more questions about what’s bothering him or what’s festering. He’s not lying, nothing’s bothering him. He cuts off his introspection and focuses back on chatting with Kurt.

Upon arriving at Burt and Carole’s, it’s easy to get caught up in the mood. The lights and the tree and the smell of Carole’s apple pie.

Kurt observes Blaine over the next few days. He watches him while they’re out with some of his friends from high school, he watches him while they do some last minute shopping with Carole, he watches him watch tv.

Monday afternoon, the boys are in Kurt’s old room wrapping presents and Blaine decides to confront Kurt.

“What’s the deal? I-I-I can feel your scrutiny.”

“Nothing! I swear! I’m just watching my man,” Kurt says.

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Everything’s. Fine.”

“I guess I was still a little worried that you were upset about leaving early.” It’s a half truth, Kurt’s worried about more than that. He’s worried about how stressed Blaine has been lately, how he drinks a little more, how he gets more headaches, and dodges conversations. Blaine just hasn’t been himself lately.

Blaine smiles broadly, relief flooding his face. “Is, is, is that what this is all about? I’m fine! I’m over it. I made new puh-puh-lans with them for next week.” 

He touches Kurt’s hand, stilling it where he’s rearranging a bow for the hundredth time. Kurt looks into Blaine’s eyes and sees sincerity there. And less exhaustion than he has in a month. He flips his hand palm up and Blaine slides his fingers into place, and then hinges forward to kiss Kurt slow and sweet. He brings his free hand up to caress Kurt’s neck, and then pull away, a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

Blaine moves back to the gift that he’s been wrapping and Kurt observes him again, this time he can’t find any trace of the moody Blaine that’s become the norm lately. This Blaine is smiling, whistling, kissing Kurt in the middle of his childhood bedroom.

“Stop looking at me,” Blaine says, but Kurt can hear the teasing in his voice.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the cutest thing to ever happen to life?” Kurt asks.

“You have, buh-buh-buh-ut hearing it doesn’t actually ever get old.”

~~~~~

The next day, Finn arrives with his new girlfriend Kristin, and it feels like the holiday really gets underway.

Later that evening the family sits together at the dining room table playing a fairly rowdy game of Scattergories, as these things tend to be.

Sometimes they play in teams, but tonight they’re all playing individually. Kurt can’t believe it when he takes first place three rounds in and then he spearheads the group into not allowing Finn’s answer of “choo-choos” in the hobby category to get any points.

When Kristin rolls a “b” Kurt gives Blaine’s knee a squeeze. Blaine looks at him, smiling confidently, waggling his eyebrows at Kurt challengingly. 

They write for the three minute time limit and go around the table with their answers. Blaine does okay on his answers for restaurants, household chores, and bodies of water. But then they get to the Halloween costume category.

“And remember, everyone say their word and then we can argue,” Carole reminds the table at large. The last few rounds have not gone very well.

Burt goes first. “Box.”

Kurt makes a face at his father, and says, “Beyonce”

Blaine smiles at Kurt’s answer, and then juts his chin out. “Buh,” he says. Kurt sees in Blaine’s eyes the moment he gives into the block, unable to work around. Blaine’s neck jerks and he blinks violently. Kurt watches his Adam’s apple bob, and rubs Blaine’s thigh.

On the other side of Blaine, Finn punches him in the arm, smiling and says to Kristin, “Don’t pay attention to this guy, he just loves when everyone stares at him.”

Blaine chokes out a laugh, breaking up his block, and says “Buh-umblebee.” And then he playfully punches Finn in the shoulder.

The round moves on like nothing ever happened. Blaine does sneak a quick peek at Kristin, but she smiles at him and looks unperturbed.

Carole finishes the Halloween costume round with Burt Bacharach, gaining two points for her double letter answer. 

The next round is “weapons” and while Finn is teasing Carole about how exactly do you dress up like Burt Bacharach, Kurt takes the opportunity to offer Blaine some help.

“Want me to read the rest of your b-words this round?” he whispers.

Blaine gives him an odd look, that Kurt can’t quite place, before shaking his head. 

The moment passes and the game continues.

~~~~~

A moment of Kurt

I had every intention of asking Blaine to marry me this Christmas. I wasn’t sure exactly how or when, but I wanted it to happen. But he’s just so stressed out. I can’t even imagine adding the stress of planning a wedding to his shoulders.

The ever present crease between his eyes speaks volumes. Even when I try to rub it way, it remains.

That night, I crawl into bed before him, and when he turns to join me I open up the blankets for him. He scrambles into my arms like a puppy. His face is open, his eyes search mine for a moment, and his lips twitch like he wants to say something. I move my face to his neck and breathe in his scent. He wraps his arms around me and his hands rub circles on my back. He draws a heart near my shoulder blade with his fingertip and suddenly whatever I was worried about doesn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

Doesn’t matter. A wedding can wait.

~~~~~

Christmas Eve is perfect, and the boys agree as they drive to Blaine’s the next morning that they’re very lucky that they get to do the presents and fun all over again today with Blaine’s family.

When they arrive at Blaine’s parent’s house, they’re greeted in the foyer by his mom, who leans first to give Kurt a hug and kiss, and then Blaine.

“Cute pants, bud,” she says, bumping his hip.

“Thanks. Kurt convinced me that if, if, if I wanted r-r-red pants, I should own red pants.”

“He’s such a good influence on you,” she says, with a wink to Kurt. “And they’re so festive.”

Christmas day with the Anderson’s passes with too much food and a lot of quality time.

Blaine loves his nephew Jasper, simply adores him, as does Kurt. But what Kurt really loves is watching Blaine roll around on the floor, playing with the toddler. Jasper’s favorite game is pretending to feed people. He’ll happily shove fake food on his plastic toy spoon in everyone’s face. And if you don’t say “yummy!” and rub your stomach, he just continues to incessantly push it at you.

Blaine does a good job of diverting Jasper’s attention from assault with fake food to running around in circles. The foyer, dining room, and living room create a great circle for being chased and Jasper’s giggles ring through the whole house.

After dinner, Jasper falls asleep cradling his new Tonka truck. The entire family is enthralled by his angelic face as he sleeps, and Blaine takes the opportunity to sneak away to the piano.

Blaine plays the piano quietly, idly, half hoping that no one even notices he slipped away. After a few songs, he hears someone behind him.

When the someone takes a seat next to him, he knows instantly it’s Kurt, without even looking. He finishes his song and moves down the bench a little, allowing Kurt more room. Kurt’s seated not facing the piano, so he leans his elbows onto the keys creating a dissonant, though also satisfying crash of notes. Blaine leans around Kurt to hit the highest note on the keyboard, and Kurt throws his head back and laughs.

“We should take that on the road,” Kurt says.

“Oh, for sure. And then we can live off all the s-s-sp-poiled fruit people throw at us,” Blaine agrees.

“You having fun?” Kurt asks, with a sincere tilt of his head.

“I am, in fact,” Blaine admits. He hesitates a moment as his brain clicks into place. “I, I, I, I haven’t been playing enough music lately.”

Kurt waits patiently, knowing instinctively that there’s more to Blaine’s thought process.

“Not enough of my own mmm-muh-music, I should say. I let myself get b-b-b-bah-bogged down by the, by the, by the holiday concert at school. When I got home at night, I-I-I didn’t feel like playing for myself.”

Kurt nods in understanding. Music became Blaine’s profession, but it’s also been a very important release for him from a very young age.

“I need a keyboard. Not a piano, not yet, mmm-mmm-aybe someday. But right now, I need a, a, a good keyboard.”

“We can do that. You can do that. You can put it in the one corner of the living room,” Kurt says. “And someday, when we have more space, we’ll get a real piano.”

“I love that idea,” Blaine says quietly, running his fingers along the ivory keys lovingly. He closes his eyes and breathes out.

Before they have a chance to go further, Blaine’s mom is standing at the door.

“Do you guys want cocoa?” she asks.

Blaine turns on the bench. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

Kurt smiles and nods. “And Katinka cookies?”

“Of course,” Michelle says.

The boys leave the living room, and the piano behind them.

~~~~~

A Moment of Michelle

“Hey, bud,” I say, walking into the kitchen early the day after Christmas. He’s been so distracted the past few months. Every time I talk to him on the phone or Skype, he seems like he’s only half paying attention. It’s nice to have him home now. It’s good to see him, and that even though he’s exhausted and has had a long semester, he’s fine. He’s managing. He’s Blaine.

Blaine whips around, licking his fingers.

“No, I’m not eating cookies at,” he looks at the clock on the microwave, “7:16 in the mmm-morning.”

I just shake my head.

“What are you doing up so early?”

He shrugs. 

I busy myself getting mugs out. I know he’ll talk if he wants to.

“Woke up with a, a, a headache, couldn’t fall b-back to sleep,” he admits.

“Oh, poor bud. Did you take anything for it?” I move over towards him, touching my hand to his forehead briefly. No matter how old he gets he’s still my boy.

“Yeah, it’s mmm, mostly gone now,” he tells me, smiling. Though I can’t help but notice his eyes are a bit glassy.

“You’ve been getting headaches a lot lately, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. Stress, probably.”

“When was the last time you got your eyes checked?”

“Mom, I-I-I think I would know if I was …” he trails off, squinting into the family room. “Huh. I have no idea when the, the, the, the last time was I got my eyes checked.”

“You should probably do something about that,” I say.

“Yeah,” he agrees absently, still squinting into the distance. “I’m pretty sure I used to be able to read the clock from here.”

I give his shoulder a squeeze and pour us some coffee.

~~~~~

The boys spend the next few days relaxing, shopping, they visit Cooper and Katinka at the new house they just bought. One afternoon they spend in a local coffee house, chatting and reading and enjoying the atmosphere.

“You want more coffee?” Blaine asks when Kurt finishes off the last of his latte.

“I think I’m good for now,” he says.

“Alright, I think I w-w-want something else,” Blaine says, eying the menu board. “Maybe an iced mmm-mocha, I don’t know.”

Kurt lifts his eyes from his magazine. “You’re going to fly away if you have more caffeine, your knee has been bouncing the whole time we’ve been sitting here.”

Blaine smiles. “I think I just got a ruh, ruh-r-eally good sleep last night. I have all this energy.”

Kurt bobs his head.

“Alright, I’m going for it,” Blaine announces as he stands.

Of course he makes the mistake of getting on the end of a growing line. He’s just about to walk away and wait it out, when someone taps him on the shoulder. He whips around, trying to figure out how Kurt snuck up on him. 

His face is breaking into a grin, but instead of Kurt, there’s someone taller. Familiar. A smile that Blaine knows well from staring at it for so many years.

“Ben?” Blaine says, quizzically.

“Blaine! I thought that was you!” Ben says brightly, pulling Blaine in for a hug, clapping him on the back.

“How’s it going?” Blaine asks when Ben releases him.

“It’s good, good. How about you? I hear you still live in New York?”

“Um, yeah. I, um, I’m in grad school, for sssss-spa-ecial education.”

“That’s great,” Ben says, smiling, nodding.

“And I teach mmmm-music at a, at a, at a, um, middle school.”

“Wow, that’s brave,” Ben says, eyes widening. “Middle school. Man.”

“How, um, how about you? What are you up to?” Blaine asks, they’re about to be next at the counter. He feels like he should know this, but he just … doesn’t.

“I’m in med school at Northwestern,” Ben tells him, smiling.

“That’s amazing!” Blaine exclaims. And he means it. He’s very impressed. “Can I um, get your drink?” Blaine gestures towards the cashier, who’s waiting for them to order.

“Oh yeah! Sure! Just a medium coffee, room for milk.”

“And I’ll have a large iced mocha,” Blaine says.

“Name?” asks the cashier.

Blaine juts his chin out. “Bah, Blaine.”

“Wow,” Ben says as they move down to where Blaine has to pick up his drink. “Gone are the days of Blah, huh?” 

“Thank God, yes,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, no joke, you sound really good.”

“Thanks,” Blaine says, suddenly not sure where to look and feeling quite flustered. “Um, are you, I mean, uh, do you have time to sit?”

Ben checks his phone. “Sure I have a few minutes.”

“My, um, boyfriend is over there, s-s-saving a table.”

“Cool,” Ben says, as they both look over and Kurt waggles his fingers at them. Blaine grabs his drink when it comes up and walks back over to the table.

Kurt stands up, figuring that whoever this is, he’s important to Blaine. He assumes it’s a cousin, or maybe someone he knows through Cooper, so Kurt is all the more surprised when Blaine announces, “This is my friend, Ben.”

Kurt’s face cracks into a smile. Blaine’s friend Ben. Blaine’s only friend from high school. The first boy Blaine ever had a crush on.

Kurt puts his hand out and shakes Ben’s strong hand.

“I’m Kurt.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Blaine gestures to the chairs at the table, and the three of them sit. They chat for several minutes, until Ben excuses himself and says he needs to be going. Before he leaves though he exchanges numbers with Blaine and thanks him again for the coffee.

“And if you’re still around at New Year’s, there’s a 5k I’m running. I bet you could still get in,” Ben offers.

“Oh man, I totally would, but we’ll be b-b-back in the city. Our friends are getting mmm-married on New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I mean, good for them, but too bad for us. But gimme a call if you come through Chicago or whatever.”

“Same to you, if you, um, sah-sah, sah-wing through New York,” Blaine says with a grin.

Ben leaves, and Kurt gives Blaine a meaningful look.

“What?” Blaine asks, innocently.

“He’s a very nice guy.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you keep in touch with him?”

“You know why.” Blaine shrugs, and dips his head. “I never really b-b-believed he was my friend. I didn’t want to b-b-bah-bother him. I figured he was, he was, um, just … being nice.”

Kurt sighs and reaches for Blaine’s hand across the table.

He gives it a squeeze, and Blaine looks up, his eyes a bit sad.

“I really mmmm-issed out on something there, didn’t I?’

It’s Kurt’s turn to shrug. “Not a big deal.”

Blaine just nods and tightens his lips.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and Kurt smiles at the way his curls bounce.

“You need a haircut,” Kurt tells him.

Blaine makes a face and takes a sip of his iced mocha.

“Only if you’re doing the cutting.”

~~~~~

The rest of their time at the Anderson’s passes uneventfully, and all too soon, Finn and Kristin are outside picking them up very early Monday morning for the drive back to New York.

Blaine always feels a little sad leaving his parents. He’s pretty sure it’s because now that they finally have a good relationship he actually enjoys being around them. He knows that they not only love him, as anyone loves their child, but they like him. That they’re proud of him. They’re impressed with the choices he’s made and the life he’s building for himself.

He’s quiet in the car, napping on and off as the afternoon wears on. They have the rehearsal dinner tonight so he might as well be rested. They each take turns driving, because it makes the trip move faster, and Blaine offered to take the last shift.

He and Kurt are in the front seat, making a game plan for as soon as they get home. They’re turnaround time before they need to be at the rehearsal is brief.

“Can I wear my r-r-r-red pants tonight?” Blaine asks.

“They’re all wrinkled, aren’t they?”

“Nah, my mom washed and, and, and pressed them for mmm-me. She told me she was going to ask you if you w-w-w-wanted anything done.”

“She did. I just felt weird taking her up on it.”

Blaine shrugs. “She loves that shit.”

They’re quiet for a minute.

“When was the last time I went to the eye dah-dah-doctor?”

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m getting sss-so many headaches. Maybe I need glasses.”

“I think you would look nice in glasses,” Kurt says looking over at Blaine.

“Then perhaps I’ll get them no mmm-matter what,” Blaine says with a grin.

~~~~~

Kurt and Blaine dash around their apartment, needing to be at the rehearsal at 6. Kristin and Finn take their time, they’re only going to the dinner at 7.

“You got everything?” Kurt asks as they’re running out the door.

“Um, what’s everything?”

“I don’t know. Wallet? Keys? Stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

They hail a cab and head to the restaurant. The ceremony and reception are being held on a harbor cruise, but tonight they’re just practicing the processional in the back room of the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner is.

Blaine gets many a compliment on his red pants and herringbone blazer.

When it comes time to practice, the rabbi arranges them in order, and then walks down the makeshift aisle.

Puck’s nana is the only grandparent on either side. She’s followed by the groomsmen, Blaine, Matt, and Sam. They’re followed by the best man, Puck’s recently discovered half brother Jake. Then Puck, with his mom. Followed by bridesmaids, Kurt, Mercedes, and Quinn, followed by Tina, Rachel’s maid of honor. Then Rachel and her dad’s make their way down the aisle.

The rabbi runs through the ceremony, and then they practice the recessional. After lots of discussion, Rachel decided not to make Kurt her man of honor, if only so that he and Blaine could be paired together in the recessional.

“It’s just too cute to miss out on!” she had said. “Like a test run for your own wedding.”

The boys had fondly rolled their eyes, but really did appreciate her sentiment.

Blaine holds out his elbow for Kurt and they walk the short aisle with smiles on their faces. Kurt can sense a jittery tremor in Blaine though, a tension that settled in when they arrived at the restaurant.

“What’s up?” Kurt whispers, as they hang around and wait for the rest of the recessional to finish.

“Nothing,” Blaine says, frowning.

Kurt squeezes his hand.

“I wah-wah, wah, was talking to Rachel’s dah-dah-dah-dads earlier, when you were, um, you were in the, in the … mmmm-men’s room and my s-s-spa, ssss-peech was just all over the place.” Blaine pauses and shrugs. “Like it is rrrrr-right now. Hate when it’s unreliable.” 

“They don’t mind.”

“No, I-I-I-I-I know. This is mmmm-more like, why can’t it just be, be, be, be okay tonight? It’s buh-buh-been good this whole week and tonight … fucked up. It’s not fair.”

Kurt winds his arm around Blaine’s waist, needing to offer him more comfort than just a squeeze of his hand. Blaine briefly accepts Kurt’s comfort by leaning his head on his shoulder, but then he pulls himself up straight and shoves his hands in pockets. 

“I’m gonna get a, a, a, a drah-drah-drink. You want anything?”

“No, I’m good for now, thanks.”

It’s awfully early in the evening for drinking, Kurt thinks. It’s not like the rehearsal dinner has an open bar, just wine and beer. Kurt watches Blaine walk over to the restaurant bar, back hunched, hands still thrust deep in his pockets. He looks like a man with too much on his shoulders. 

He comes back with a grin and a drink in each hand.

When he’s just about back to Kurt, Puck steps over. 

“Double fisting?” Puck asks, patting him on the back.

“You know it,” Blaine responds, taking a sip from the smaller of the two drinks.

Kurt just shakes his head. 

Blaine gets drunk that night. Kurt’s seen him drunk plenty of times, obviously, but never quite like this. He’s loud, gregarious, and edgy somehow. Like Kurt can’t get a hold on his mood. At times he seems almost belligerent, which isn’t something Kurt would ever have thought he would describe Blaine as. He finds himself reprimanding Blaine several times, telling him to be quieter, or to stop drinking so much. But Blaine just isn’t listening.

When the evening winds down, Kurt goes to retrieve their coats and when he returns he finds Blaine sitting sadly on a bench outside the back room.

“Blaine?”

Blaine looks at him with sad, drunk eyes.

“What’s the matter? Are you going to throw up?”

Blaine shakes his head.

Kurt sits down. “What is it?”

“I’m ssss, sssss-ad.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re mmmm-mad at me,” he mumbles around his pouty lips.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Cause I, I, I, I got so drunk,” Blaine slurs.

“I’m not mad. I just want to go home.”

“You’re mmmm-ad at me,” he wails.

Kurt sucks in a cleansing breath, regretful that he didn’t get drunk tonight himself. He’s much more patient with drunk Blaine when he’s also inebriated. But he wasn’t in the mood. He was too busy socializing 

“Oh my god, Blaine. Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself,” Kurt mutters, as he stands up and puts Blaine’s coat out to help him into it.

After he struggles to get him buttoned up, Kurt pulls Blaine’s hand and yanks him out of the restaurant, failing to even say goodbye to anyone. He shoots a quick text to Finn to have him and Kristin meet them out front, saying that Blaine needed air.

Blaine pulls away from Kurt when they’re on the sidewalk. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Okay,” Kurt says.

“You’re embarrassed.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He doesn’t like this side of drunk Blaine.

“I’m going bah-bah-bah, bah-back inside, it’s too cold.”

“No! I told Finn and Kristin to meet us out here. We’re going home. You’re shitfaced and acting like a child. I’m tired, and I’m sick of being here and dealing with you. And we have to do it all over again tomorrow.”

Blaine stops short. “Dealing with mmmm-me?” Blaine finger quotes sloppily, listing a bit in his drunkenness.

“Yes.”

“Fine. Guess I’ll go b-b-b-b-back to beh-beh-beh-being your docile puh, puh, p-p-puppy dog.” Blaine walks over and takes Kurt’s hand, keeping his head down.

“You’re not my puppy dog, Blaine. I just want you to …” Kurt trails off, because the rest of that sentence ends with words like behave, listen, or be more obedient. Maybe Kurt does want Blaine to be his puppy dog. Before he can follow that thought any farther, Blaine noses his arm.

“Woof?” Blaine says, when he has Kurt’s attention.

“Are you shitting me?”

“Woof.”

Finn and Kristin walk out of the restaurant and Blaine doesn’t make another noise until they’re back at the apartment.

They go through an abbreviated nightly ritual, Kurt making sure that Blaine drinks at least a little water. Then they say good night, and Finn and Kristin settle onto the pull-out couch in the living room.

Blaine sits at the edge of the bed, carefully taking off his shoes, feeling like if he doesn’t keep his movements small, he’ll roll right off the edge.

“Are you going to shower?” Kurt asks.

“Woof,” Blaine says, shrugging.

Kurt rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry I said all that. I’m sorry I said I was tired of dealing with you. But I am just tired period, and I really want to go to sleep.”

“Woof, woof,” Blaine says, his voice tinged with a mock understanding.

“Come on, poop, seriously?”

And then Blaine’s demeanor changes. His shoulders droop and his face softens, and it’s like all of the fight goes out of him.

Blaine makes several whiny puppy noises. Now he’s standing in his undershirt and boxer shorts and crawls under the covers, making tiny “ruff, ruff” noises and nosing Kurt’s pillow.

“You know I should be so pissed at you right now?” Kurt says, crawling in next to him.

Blaine smiles, nosing Kurt’s neck, before licking him a few times and passing out.

All Kurt can think is that Blaine is going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

~~~~~

The sun assaults Blaine. He has no idea what time it is, he has no idea where he is, he’s not even 100% sure he’s Blaine. All of his focus is on the desert that now resides where his mouth used to be.

“Ugh,” he moans, throwing his arms out to stretch, finding the other side of the bed empty. He cracks an eye open, and sees that it’s only 7:47 am. He’s thrilled to see he didn’t sleep all day. They have pictures at 3 and the wedding’s not until 5, but he doesn’t need the wrath of Kurt yelling at him about sleeping too late, or not being ready on time. Because he was drunk last night.

He was drunk.

And he barked at Kurt. Literally.

And his speech was all messed up.

And didn’t improve even as he got drunk.

And he yelled at Kurt.

And he felt like shit.

And today he still feels like shit.

“Noooo,” he groans, rolling his face into the pillow and pulling the blankets over his head. He hears the shower turn on, and Finn and Kristin talking quietly in the living room. So it must be Kurt in the bathroom. At least he has a few more minutes of solace before he has to grovel.

He really was a shithead last night.

He can fix this though. He’ll just apologize, he’ll be good old, nice guy Blaine. Kurt will call him Poop and whatever lingering anger he has will just ooze out of his pours. He’ll take a nice long shower, and drink coffee and lots of water. Maybe Kurt will let him use some of his good moisturizer, because not only is his mouth a desert, his whole face feels like one too.

He’s thinking all of these thoughts and drifts back to sleep, telling himself just a few more minutes. Just until Kurt gets back from the shower.

“Woof,” he whispers as he dozes off, giggling to himself.

The next time he wakes up he’s not being assaulted by the sun.

Kurt’s hands are shaking him and immediately he feels like he’s going to throw up. He sits up quickly, and the feeling subsides.

“What the hell?” he mutters, rubbing at his face, feeling somehow both better and worse than he did last time he woke up.

“It’s 12 o’clock, Blaine. You gotta get up. You need to eat something and take a shower. We have to leave here by two to make sure we’re not late for pictures. And I know how you drag your ass.”

Blaine clears his throat and Kurt finally looks over at him after his tirade.

“I’m, I’m, I’m sorry about last night,” Blaine says, putting his hand out to Kurt. “I’m sorry I was b-b-b-being an idiot.”

Kurt sits on the bed and grins, taking Blaine’s hands and weaving their fingers together. “I accept your apology,” Kurt says, leaning to kiss him. After a minute, Blaine stops kissing back and pulls away.

“You don’t w-w-want to apologize?”

“I did. Last night. I said I was sorry for saying that I was tired of dealing with you.”

“Can’t you be, be, be sorry in general? Does it have to be that … ssss-spe-spe-cific? You were being kind of dick last night.”

“Me? I was being kind of a dick?” Kurt stands up.

“I mean, I know I was doing my fair share of dickery, buh-buh-buh-ut you were being like, weird and judgmental.”

“Seriously?” Kurt’s voice is bordering on something dangerous.

“Um, yeah.” Blaine stands up then, and rummages for clean underwear and some sweats to put on after his shower.

Kurt just stands there shaking his head in disbelief.

“And for the record,” Blaine begins, turning around to face Kurt, feelings bubbling to the surface that he’s been pushing down for too long. “I’m not actually your child. You don’t need to deal with me. We’re supposed to be equals in this relationship and yet somehow you love nothing more than to make me feel like I’m your five year old.” He curbs his initial desire to throw his fist in the air that he didn’t stutter on any of that, but he’s pretty sure it would ruin the effect.

“I don’t even know what to say to that.” Kurt continues shaking his head in disbelief. “I am at a complete loss for words.”

“Well, why don’t you think of sssss-some while I shower!” Blaine yells at Kurt as he slams the bedroom door behind him.

Finn and Kristin are in the living room, sitting quietly, pretending to watch tv, pretending that they didn’t hear the heated voices in the bedroom.

“Good morning,” Blaine says. “Or afternoon. Whatever, fuck, who cares.”

Blaine is seething mad. His hands shake with anger. He’s not entirely sure he’s ever been this pissed off in his entire life. He puts the shower on and slams around, looking for his razor. Kurt’s in constant state of reorganization. Why can’t he just leave Blaine’s razor out of it? Just leave it in the medicine cabinet. How many times has Blaine asked him, politely, to leave his fucking razor in the fucking medicine cabinet. He slams one of the drawers under the sink. 

He stops.

Splashes water on his face.

His razor is in his bag that he hasn’t unpacked yet.

In the bedroom.

With Kurt.

He’ll figure that out later.

He steps into the shower, and turns a slow circle under the warm water. He takes a deep, cleansing breath. What’s wrong with him? Why is he acting like this? He doesn’t want to act like this. This isn’t him. Everything in his head just seems so huge, so insurmountable. He closes his eyes and strong arms the wall, bowing his head and letting the water pound on his neck.

He’s so frustrated he could cry. But he doesn’t even know what’s wrong with him. 

He stands like that, breathing deeply, trying to focus his mind, but everything’s a jumble. When he finally stands up, his arms are half asleep and he spends a minute shaking them out before he can even pick up the shampoo.

He hates feeling like this.

When it becomes clear that he’s already spent far too much time in the shower, he steps out and dries off, putting on his clothes and going into the kitchen, not noticing that the living room is empty. He puts on more coffee and drinks some orange juice and as much water as humanly possible. He makes some toast but it tastes like cardboard and feels like lead in his stomach.

Kurt comes into the kitchen.

“So have you calmed down?”

“No,” Blaine says, trying to keep his face poker straight.

Kurt shakes his head and leans against the counter.

“Finn and Kristin went out for some lunch. But I think they just couldn’t handle listening to us fight one more second.”

“I don’t w-w-w-wanna fight,” Blaine says, his gaze out the window behind Kurt, face still stoic.

“Then why are we fighting?” Blaine can the relief enter Kurt’s voice. But he doesn’t want it there.

“Be-be, because I’m tired,” Blaine levels his gaze at Kurt.

Kurt puts his hands up in surrender. “Of what, Blaine?”

“Of you treating mmm-me like a child. You patronize, and condescend, and make d-d-deh-decisions for me.”

Kurt puts his hands to his face and inhales deeply.

“Well, I’m tired of you acting like a child. I’m tired of having to be the adult.”

“Oh, fuck that. I’m an adult. I’m just as adult as, as, as you are. I hold up my end of this b-b-b-bah-bargain. I pay my share of the rent and the b-b-bills. I cook, I clean. Maybe not as much as you do, but only because you have a, a, a, a certain set of ssss-stah-andards that I just can’t seem to measure up to.”

Kurt rolls his eyes.

“God forbid I-I-I-I iron your pants and p-p-put the crease even the slightest off center.”

Kurt decides not to even dignify that with a response.

But he does decide he can sink to his level. “Are you going to shave? You look like hell.” 

Blaine makes a disgusted face and leaves the kitchen. He finds his razor in his bag and heads back into the bathroom to shave.

“Are you ever planning on being done in here?” Kurt asks, standing in the door of the bathroom, just minutes later.

Blaine was in the process of patting his face dry, so he wordlessly pushes past Kurt and stands for a moment in the living room. He can’t believe he has to get on a boat with Kurt and act like a happy couple for hours and hours on end.

They’ve fought before, obviously, but never like this. Never without an end in sight.

Blaine sits on the couch, turns on the tv, and decides not to go to the wedding.

Kurt ignores him for the better part of 45 minutes, until he has to say something.

“So, don’t you think it might be time to put on your tux?”

“Not going,” Blaine says, crossing his arms.

“Oh my god, I can’t handle this. You are ridiculous.”

Blaine doesn’t look at him, instead just giving him the finger.

“Yes. That helps your case.”

“I don’t wanna go. You go. Send my … r-r-r-regards. Regrets. Whatever.”

“Blaine you’re being a child.”

“I’m fulfilling your expectations of me.”

“Blaine, please. Think about what you’re doing. You’re in the wedding party. You’re one of Puck’s best friends. You really want to miss his wedding because of our bullshit?”

Blaine sighs, but doesn’t move.

“We obviously need to talk about this, but can’t we … pause? Can’t we pause this fight for Puck and Rachel, and come back to it later?”

Blaine’s jaw is set tight, but he stands up. “Fine. Buh-buh-ut it’s for Puck and Rachel. We’re not d-d-dah-done.”

“Fine.”

Blaine goes into the bedroom and gets dressed, touches up his hair and is back out into the living room in no time.

Kurt sits primly on the sofa.

“God forbid you ssss-sit comfortably and fuck up your pants crease,” Blaine says as he walks over to the door.

“You look nice too, sweetheart,” Kurt says through gritted teeth, standing up to follow.

Out on the street, they hail a cab, and once inside they sit in stony silence for several minutes, Kurt on one end of the backseat, Blaine leaning heavily on the door on the other side.

“Unpause. You know that I act like a child b-b-b-because you treat me like a child.”

“It’s a chicken and the egg phenomenon, really. Because I don’t think I treated you like a child until you started acting like one.”

Blaine barks a laugh, and for a minute Kurt thinks he’s gone back to pretending to be Kurt’s puppy.

“I sense disagreement,” Kurt remarks.

“Whatever, pause.”

They sit in silence until the cab pulls up at the edge of the dock. When they get out of cab, Blaine starts walking towards the boat.

“No, unpause,” Kurt says, reaching for Blaine’s shoulder. They’re exactly on time, but he has a request to make. “I’m going to say pause again in one minute and we’re going to march our way into that wedding and be as happy as two pigs in shit. We’ll have a good time, we’ll dance, we’ll sing if they force us to, and they probably will. But between now and the time we unpause this fight, I want you to think of five times I’ve ever treated you like a child. I want specifics. We need to resolve this.”

Blaine nods and holds out his hand to shake.

Kurt shakes, and says, “Pause.” 

They let go and walk down the dock, separating once on board, Kurt to take pictures with Rachel, and Blaine to take pictures with Puck.

When Blaine walks into the room where the guys are congregating, and immediately Matt’s in face. No one else is in the room at the moment.

“Dude.”

“Hi.”

“You look like your dog just died.”

“Hungover,” Blaine says simply, promising himself that he won’t mention his fight with Kurt. He doesn’t want to pull even a little bit of focus from Puck and Rachel. Which reminds him, he should text Finn to keep it quiet too.

“You were super drunk last night,” Matt says.

“That I was,” Blaine agrees, looking around the small room. “Is that sss-stuff for us?” he asks, gesturing towards a table in the corner with nuts and chips and finger sandwiches.

“Yeah.”

“Thank god, I’m starving all of a, of a, of a ssss-sudden.” He shoves a triangle of sandwich into his mouth, not even register it’s roast beef until he’s almost swallowed it.

“Where’s everyone else?” Blaine asks, picking up a bottle of water.

“Sam’s not here yet, but Jake and Puck are getting a couple pictures of just the two of them done by the captain’s wheel.”

Blaine eats another sandwich, and drinks more water, and starts to feel much more like himself.

“So did I-I-I do anything to offend you last night?”

“Me? No. I’m not easily offended.”

“I think, I think, I think I’m getting too old to dah-rink like that. It’s just not fun anymore.”

“Seriously, you were like a man on a mission last night.”

“My spah-spah-eech was all messed up, so I was trying to drink my st-st-stuh-stutter away,” Blaine admits.

“Are you talking to me as a speech path or as your friend?” Matt asks.

“Can you be b-b-b-both?”

“Don’t be an assclown and try to drink your stutter away, you damn well know it doesn’t really work like that.”

Blaine chuckles.

“And in general, don’t be an assclown,” Matt concludes.

“Words of wisdom.”

“Do you need a hug? Hugs are always better from someone taller than you,” Matt tells him knowledgeably.

Blaine nods, and Matt gives him a great bear hug. A few minutes later, Sam enters, followed by Jake, Puck, and the photographer, and the work begins in earnest.

Blaine doesn’t see Kurt again until he’s walking down the aisle in the processional. His hair is perfect and the gold and black brocade of his suit jacket is a perfect match for the girl’s dresses. Blaine’s heart constricts, hating that they’re fighting. He smiles at Kurt, shyly, hopeful that Kurt will smile back, even in the midst of this all. Kurt quirks a grin along with a quick wink. Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. At least they’re okay enough to wink. 

The ceremony moves quickly and Blaine does his best to pay attention to what’s going on under the chuppah, as opposed to just staring at Kurt the whole time. But his eyes drift back over time and again. 

He has one panicky moment as Puck breaks the glass that he and Kurt won’t ever do this. That they won’t ever make it to marriage, what if this is it for them? What if this fight is the end?

Blaine shakes himself out of that thought. When they unpause, he’ll just make sure to have his thoughts in order for Kurt and they can talk this out. And everything will be fine. Everything will be fine. It becomes his mantra, and when he holds out his arm to link with Kurt’s his smile is genuine, as are the tears in Kurt’s eyes.

“I just can’t believe they actually made it this far,” Kurt murmurs as they walk up the aisle.

Blaine nods in agreement.

After the receiving line, the bridal party takes a few more pictures and then join in on cocktail hour. Kurt and Blaine circulate separately. Blaine spends the majority of the hour talking animatedly with Kerry. She returned from backpacking around Europe a couple weeks ago, but she’ll be leaving again to teach English in Japan come May. 

“You know DiDi lives in Tokyo?” Blaine informs her.

“I feel like I heard something about that, but I never quite understood how she ended up there.”

“Well, about a week b-b-before we graduated, DiDi was at karaoke sushi with her roommate. And there was always this big group of Japanese b-b-businessmen there. It turns out they were all from some video game company and they loved DiDi’s voice. So now she dah-dah-does all this voiceover work for Japanese video games.”

Kerry shakes her head. “I really have no idea why that surprises me. DiDi was destined for weird things.”

“And she’s going to be the voice of the princess in the new Super Mario that’s coming out ssss-soon.”

“She’s going to be the voice of Princess Peach?” Kerry asks, seriously.

Blaine nods emphatically.

“That’s amazing. I’ll definitely have to track her down while I’m there.”

At one point during cocktail hour, the boys end up at the bar together.

“Unpause. Please don’t get epically drunk tonight,” Kurt says.

“This is ginger ale, Kurt,” Blaine snaps at him. “Along with not b-b-b-being your child, I’m also not an alcoholic or a glutton for p-p-punishment.”

Kurt’s face is slightly pained.

“That can be number one on the list. You act like I, I, I, I drink too much, you’re always on my ass about drinking. Maybe I get sloppy s-s-s-sometimes, but in the five years we’ve b-b-been together, how many times has it, it, it actually happened?”

Kurt narrows his eyes. “But that’s not me treating you like a child! That’s me being worried!”

“But how mmmm-much I drink isn’t your decision.”

“I think this is a moot point because if you were my child, you wouldn’t be drinking period.”

“Fair enough, but it’s still number one on mmmm-my list.”

Kurt bobs his head, but remains quiet.

“Pause,” Blaine says, squeezing Kurt’s hand and kissing his cheek, before drifting back into the crowd of people alone.

They join Puck and Rachel for their first dance, God Only Knows by The Beach Boys. The music is loud enough, and their faces are close enough, that Blaine decides to make point number two.

“Unpause. You order for me w-w-w-without asking.”

“I thought you like when I order for you.”

“I like when it’s on my terms. I dah-don’t like when you, you, you assume.”

“How do we make it so I’m not assuming?”

“Well, for st-stah, star-starters, I don’t really need you to order for me at all these days.”

Kurt moves closer. “But I like ordering for you. I like the gentlemanliness of it. You’re always such a gentleman, holding doors or pulling out my chair.”

Blaine blushes.

“I like doing that for you. It’s not even about your speech. I like how it feels.”

“I didn’t know that,” Blaine says, holding eye contact with Kurt.

“I never mentioned it.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Blaine whispers.

“Pause,” Kurt says. He leans in to kiss Blaine’s cheek as the song ends.

After dinner, Blaine sneaks away to the deck, needing some air. And truth be told, he could kind of use a drink. So he orders a beer and heads outside. The night air is freezing, but clear, the waves lapping at the boat instantly soothe him. He takes a long pull from his beer bottle and leans on the rail, promising himself he won’t be out here long.

“Unpause,” a voice says behind him.

“Number 3,” Blaine says without turning around. “Changing the flight w-wuh-without telling me.”

Kurt stands next to him, moving his body close for warmth. “I thought we went through that.”

“We did, and I understand. But it’s on the list. The crux of the issue is that even if you didn’t have time to, to, to d-d-discuss it with me, you should have told me. It was on mmmm-my credit card. You could have texted me rrrrr-ight after you made the change instead of me getting an email about it from the airline.”

“Fair enough.”

“No argument?”

“No argument.”

Blaine relaxes his body against Kurt’s. “Pause.”

“Can we go inside and dance?” Kurt asks.

“Of course,” Blaine says, walking to the door and holding it for Kurt.

Blaine’s talking to Matt and Julia about an hour later when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

10:01 pm  
Kurt: Meet me in the bridal suite?

Blaine excuses himself, and finds Kurt enveloped in a comfy chair in the bridal suite, glass of red wine in hand.

“So after 10, everything goes to hell in a handbasket where your pah-pah-pant’s crease is concerned?” Blaine teases.

“Blaine.”

“Kurt.”

“Unpause.”

Blaine sucks in a deep breath.

“I take it you’re running out of specifics?” Kurt asks.

“No, no, not at all actually. This one, um, seems to have b-b-b-bothered me more than I let on.”

Kurt sits up straighter in his chair, his face dark with concern.

“When you asked me if you could r-r-r-read the, the, the rest of my b-words.”

“Really?”

Blaine shrugs.

“I just wanted to help. I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed in front of Kristin. I know how you are, sometimes, with new people.”

“How I was with new people,” Blaine corrects. “I’m not rrrrr-really like that anymore. But I kind of, um, kind of feel like you haven’t noticed.” Blaine hunches his shoulders a bit, his hands in his pockets, eyes trained in the corner of the room.

Kurt mulls this over, sipping his glass of wine.

“I mean, did I, I, I seem embarrassed?” Blaine asks, quietly. “Or concerned at all?” He turns his eyes towards Kurt, who’s shaking his head.

“No, I guess not. You seemed … fine.”

“It’s because I wasn’t trying to, trying to, um, impress anyone. I love your family. I’m not wah-worried about what they think of me. I mean, like, I want them to like me, but I already know they do. My ssss-peech doesn’t change how they feel about me. And Kristin, she’s nice, there was nothing about her that m-m-made me nervous. Sometimes I just stuh, stuh, sss-tutter. Sometimes I even bah-bah-lock when I least expect it, when I’m at my mmmm-most relaxed.”

“I know, I know it’s not always indicative of some deeper emotion.”

“It really isn’t.”

“But sometimes you do need help, right? Can’t I help you when you need it?”

“You’ll know, Kurt. You’ll know if there’s a, a, a ssss-situation I need you to buh-bail me out of. Sitting around Burt and Carole’s dining r-r-r-room table is never going to be one of them though. I didn’t even need you to b-b-b-bail me out the first time I sss-sat there.”

Kurt nods and smiles at the memory.

Blaine runs his hands through his hair.

Kurt stands up then, abandoning his glass on a side table and stands in front Blaine, taking both his hands in his. “You could have told me that night.”

“I didn’t want to fight on Christmas Eve.”

“And now we’re fighting on New Year’s Eve.”

Blaine pulls in a deep breath, but leaves his hands in Kurt’s. “There’s a b-b-bigger issue with this buh-buh-bulletpoint. I hate it when you act like you know me better than I, I, I know myself.”

“Okay. I understand that.”

“And sometimes it’s not what you sssss-say, but how you say it.”

“And how exactly do I say it, Blaine?” Kurt feels his anger start to rise again, which is a shame because he was beginning to feel like they’re getting somewhere, starting to move on from this argument.

“Like you’re channeling my mmmmm-other.”

“See, but this where you’re ridiculous. It leaves me without recourse. Like I’m supposed to read your mind.”

“No, you’re not. You’re supposed to, to, to wait for me to let you know. I’ll always let you know.”

“I feel the need to point out that if I had suggested you go to the eye doctor for your headaches you would have bit my head off.”

Blaine softens a bit. “I know. And that’s my fault. I shouldn’t be so deh-deh-def-defensive. That’s not fair to you. And ssssss-ometimes I do need to hear stuff like that. I know you’re right, I-I-I-I know I might have given you a hard time if you had given mmmm-me the same advice.”

Kurt nods. “Pause?”

Blaine makes up the space between them and is kissing Kurt before Kurt even has a chance to realize what’s happening.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Blaine says, around Kurt’s lips.

Kurt nods, bringing his arms more tightly around Blaine’s neck. They head back out to the party, both feeling better, but well aware that they’re not quite done yet.

They dance and celebrate with their friends, both getting a little bit toasty, but certainly not drunk. When the band leader announces, “Thirty minutes to midnight!” Blaine grabs Kurt’s hand and drags him into the hallway. 

“We need to finish this before mmmm-mid-midnight,” he says.

In the hallway, they find Sam and Erin locked in a heated make out session. They head to the deck, but it’s way too cold. After that they check the bridal suite, but the door is closed and they realize they haven’t seen Puck and Rachel for at least 20 minutes.

Finally Blaine opens a door and pulls Kurt into a janitor’s closet.

There’s no light, just whatever is filtering under the bottom of the door. Blaine fishes for his phone and turns on the flashlight app, setting it on one of the shelves of toilet paper.

“Unpause,” Blaine says.

Kurt nods.

“I’m starting to feel like, like, like everything I’m saying is petty. And while I mmmm-ight have more specific situations, it doesn’t mah-mah-mmm-matter. I like when you take care of me. I like that you want to take care of me, buh-buh-ut you don’t need to … nurture me. You don’t need to mmmm-mold me into an adult.”

Kurt looks at him confusedly. “I’m not trying to do that.”

“Wait, don’t argue yet, I-I-I need to get this out. I feel like I’ve been trying to, to, to prove something to you over and over again, lately, and it’s just not … coming out r-r-right. Instead I’m being juvenile and callow. When what I’m trying to prove is that, is that, is that I’m not that kid anymore Kurt. I’m not that kid who needs all that help. I can order mmm-my own coffee, and talk on the phone, and ssss-say my name. I’m not afraid all the time, I’m not st-st-stuck in my own head all the time. I can love you and provide for you. I can protect you and take care of you. I need to know that you dah-dah-don’t think I’m that kid anymore.”

Blaine’s posture is nervous, his hands fidget. Kurt stills them.

“Can I say something?”

Blaine nods.

“I know you’re not that kid anymore. I do, I swear. I just forget sometimes. I don’t think you understand how much I love that kid. He was so sweet and scared and he needed me. And he loved me so purely just because I loved him. I know you’re different, I’ve watched you change, but every once in awhile, I kinda miss that kid. And I don’t mean that I want you to be stuck forever at 19, I just …” Kurt feels his eyes fill with tears. “I love you, all of you. Every last little bit of you. Even the stuff you don’t like, or are ashamed of.”

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head vigorously.

“I’m doing this all wrong, all wrong. But to hell with it. We’re in a janitor’s closet on a b-b-b-boat on New Year’s Eve.”

He opens his eyes, clears his throat.

“Will you marry me, Kurt?” 

Kurt stares at him.

“I know I-I-I should get down on one knee, and have a r-r-ring, and maybe sing you a song, or make some kind of sp-sp-spectacle of myself. But I love you and I want to ask you rrrrr-ight now, in front of this wall of toilet paper and the flashlight app. Because I love you so much even in the mmm-middle of this ridiculous fight.”

Kurt bobs his head.

“On one condition.”

Blaine face tenses. “Anything.”

“That even when we’re old, and have kids and a dog and a mortgage, I’ll still be your fella.”

Blaine laughs, can’t help himself, even as tears spring to his eyes.

“You will always, always be my fella,” he pauses, swallowing. “But I have trouble b-b-b-believing you’ll ever let me have a, a, a, a dog.”

“It’s a turn of phrase. Not a promise,” Kurt admits.

And just like that all the tension goes out of the tiny janitor’s closet. The boys practically collapse into each other, both exhaling sighs of relief. Kurt drops his head onto Blaine’s shoulder, he can feel his heart pound, letting their breath even out together, holding each other up.

When they pull apart, they’re both grinning. Kurt caresses Blaine’s cheek with his thumb, and Blaine brings his hands to Kurt’s face, pulling him in for a long, slow kiss.

A check of the time shows it’s almost midnight, so the boys link hands and stroll back to the wedding reception. 

Before they go into the room, Blaine tugs on Kurt’s hand. “You know I’m sss-sorry right? I feel like in the mmm-middle of all that I forgot to apologize.”

Kurt throws his head back and laughs. “I’m sorry, too. For making you feel all those things.”

“Sometimes I’m an assclown,” Blaine says with a shrug.

They keep their mouths shut for the rest of the night about the engagement, not wanting to steal any of Rachel Berry Puckerman’s thunder, but knowing that they’re ringing in the New Year as engaged is more than enough for both of them.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s happening again, except this time it’s real life, not just a nightmare.

Blaine sits in class, the second week of his freshman year of high school and his English teacher calls on him to read. And he can’t.

He can’t anything.

Can’t seem to get any words out whatsoever. It feels like time is standing still. He tries to say, “I can’t,” or “I’m blocked,” or “I stutter,” but nothing’s coming out. No words. He feels his mouth moving, his jaw working, but he can’t even seem to breathe.

His hands clench and unclench of their own accord. He used to roll his eyes uncontrollably when he stuttered. Luckily, his previous speech therapist worked that particular tic out of his secondary characteristics. Which is good, because if it went on too long he got dizzy.

He was supposed to go to each of his teachers and tell them about his stutter. He talked to Paula about it, he talked to his speech therapist about it. That’s what he was supposed to do. 

He’s just so shy. He has so much trouble approaching people. A few times over the past week, he would wait for the rest of his classmates to filter out of the classroom, slowly putting his books in his backpack. He would stand up and walk towards the teacher’s desk. They would smile at him and he would make a sharp turn for the door, suddenly unable to remember his prepared speech, unable to get his mouth moving.

But it would have been better than this. Sitting here mute and breathless. This is another lesson he’ll keep. It’s always easier to make a preemptive strike against his speech so that it doesn’t rear its ugly head and leave him wordless in front of a roomful of his peers. 

His eyes blink rapidly. He’s waiting for someone to laugh. He’s waiting for his teacher to get impatient.

Instead he hears a voice behind him.

“Ms. Turner?” the voice says, a bit hesitant. “Blaine stutters. I think he’s stuttering.”

It’s Ben’s voice, filling in words where Blaine doesn’t have any.

Blaine cuts the block and breathes a sigh of relief, making eye contact with his teacher. He nods at her, hoping it says “Ben’s right, I stutter, that’s why I can’t talk right now.”

Ben’s always nice to Blaine. When the other guys are being jerks, or when people aren’t listening to him in class, Ben is always at least not mean. He never laughs at Blaine. Last year he sat in front of Blaine in math and sometimes if the teacher was late Ben would talk to him. And sometimes Blaine would even talk back to him.

On the first day of middle school, Ben sat next to him on the bus. Blaine thought he ruined any chance of being Ben’s friend by stuttering that day. But he hadn’t. And they’re still not really friends, but Blaine thinks if he had a friend, he would want him to be like Ben.

“Thanks Ben,” Ms. Turner says as Blaine tunes back into the classroom. “Blaine, can you stop for a second after class and talk to me?”

Blaine stares at his desk and nods again.

He tells himself not to panic. That even if he’s in trouble, it’ll be fine. He’ll have to explain himself to his parents, how he didn’t talk to his teachers about his speech. That’s going to be difficult, because his mom encouraged him to do it. But it’ll be okay.

~~~~~

A moment of Paula

“She w-w-w-was rrrrr-really nice about it,” he tells me. “She said, she said, um, class p-par-par-pah-par-part,” he takes a deep breath, and slows every syllable down, even though he’s told me in the past he hates talking like that because he thinks he sounds like a robot. “Pah-art-ic-ip-ation counts, but she won’t call on mmmmmmmm-me unless she has to. If I, I, I, I, I just raise my hand and answer questions when I can, she’ll count that.”

He smiles. I can tell how relieved he is.

“That’s great, Blaine. Did anything else happen today?”

“Well, after that, in gym class, um, the, the, the, um, the coach asked if I mm-mm-might want to join the cross country team.”

“And do you?”

He nods.

He’s quiet and swallows several times. “I talked to B-B-Bah-Ben today. Well, he talked to me … first, but, but, but, but I talked b-b-b-back.”

I smile encouragingly. He’s practically triumphant with the idea that he talked to someone.

“I wish I-I-I-I had thanked him fuh-fuh-f-for helping me in English class.”

“You still could.”

“I, I, I, I,” Blaine starts. “Um, yeah.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Uh, well, um, he’s on the cross country t-t-t-team. And he s-s-aid I should join too.”

His eyes travel around the room. He’s very relaxed today. Some days he comes in here wound so tightly, coiled like a spring, unable to get much of anything out of his mouth until he calms down. But today, he’s leaned back in his chair, stuttering of course, but not blocking heavily. He talks animatedly, gesturing with his hands, smiling. 

He’s happy.

I’m not sure what’s making him happiest. Ben speaking up for him in class, the idea of joining the cross country team, or something else entirely.

“We have 10 minutes left Blaine, do you have anything else?”

Sometimes if I give him a gentle reminder, I find that he has some topic saved up for the end, and today is one of those days.

“If I-I-I-I join cross country, I have t-t-t-to quit ssssss-peech,” he blurts out.

I don’t immediately see the correlation.

“Cross country is, is, is everyday after ssss-school, and sometimes there are even Saturday mmmmm-meets. It dah-dah-doesn’t leave much time.”

Now he’s grinning delightedly.

I know he really wants to quit speech, but hasn’t had a reason too. We’ve discussed it, how nervous he is to talk to his parents about it. That he’d rather continue going until he finds an outside reason to stop.

“Are you ready to talk to your mom and dad about it?”

“I-I-I th-th-think so. I think it’s a, a, a, a good enough r-r-r-reason, right?”

“I think the fact that you don’t want to go to speech anymore is a good enough reason on its own. You’re a mature kid, I think if you took your time and explained yourself to your parents, they would listen to you.”

He lowers his eyes and nods.

“I know it’ll be hard for you, but try not be too nervous Blaine, it’ll be okay. Just take your time and explain yourself.”

He looks at me and smiles, his cheek twitches and he glances away.

“You can do it.”

I almost think he believes me.

~~~~~

Blaine waits for a quiet moment at dinner.

“So,” he starts, making both his parents look at him. His eyes drift to his plate before continuing. “I, I, I, I-I-I, um, I’m going to join the cross country t-t-t-team.”

“That’s a great idea, Blaine,” his mom says, smiling.

His dad just nods.

Blaine clears his throat. That was the easy part, now it’s time for the hard part.

He clears his throat again.

And again.

“Blaine?” His mom’s voice is concerned.

One more throat clearing.

“I w-w-w-w-want to quit s-s-s-s-spa-spa-pa-eech.”

“Oh, but Blaine, you’re sounding so good these days!” his mom exclaims.

He bites his tongue to keep from yelling out “bull shit!” or some other expletive that doesn’t start with a b. But of course he doesn’t. He just wants to get through this.

“Um, cross country p-p-p-practices everyday. There are mmmmm-meets on Saturdays, s-s-s-s-s-sssss-sometimes. So, I-I-I-I-I-I w-w-won’t have time.”

“I don’t know,” his mom says, glancing at his dad.

His dad shrugs. Blaine wonders why his mom even bothers. It’s so obvious that his dad doesn’t give a damn about Blaine, or his speech, or if he’s going to run cross country. He could run cross country on the moon, and he doesn’t think his dad would notice. He notices him when he does something wrong, but never when Blaine wants him to, or needs him to.

“What brought this on?” his mom asks. “You never wanted to join a team before.”

Blaine wipes his hands on his pants, wishing his palms didn’t sweat. He takes his time, wanting to present his thoughts as succinctly as possible. During gym today they were running the mile and Blaine ran it in 6 and a half minutes and his gym teacher was really impressed. And while his gym teacher was talking to him about joining the cross country team, another guy from the team came up to them and said he really thought Blaine should join.

Ben said. Ben said he should join.

Sometimes Blaine thinks that maybe he likes Ben. Like as not just a friend. He’s not sure if he’s gay though, because he likes girls too. Like Emily, his lab partner from middle school, says hi to him in the halls sometimes, and he gets nervous and he blushes. He thinks she’s cute. Just as cute as Ben.

Blaine shakes his head to clear these thoughts. His parents don’t need to hear all of that.

“The, the, um, I mean, mmmmm-my gym teacher is one of the cross country coaches and, and, and today we r-r-r-r-r-ran the mmmmmm-mmmmmm-mile in gym.” He pauses and looks at his mom, hoping she’ll put the rest of it together and put him out of his misery.

Instead she looks at him expectantly.

“He said, he said, he s-s-s-said that I-I-I-I-I-I-I did a good job, and that they’re ssssss-till looking for guys f-f-f-f-f-for the t-t-t-t-team.”

And Ben’s on the team, he adds silently.

“Michelle,” his dad says. Blaine had forgotten that he might even be listening. “It’s his decision. Let him quit.”

Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. If he’s honest with himself, as soon as he realized that running cross country wouldn’t leave him enough time for speech therapy, he was ready to sign up. He hates speech therapy. He hates how it makes him feel like a specimen. He hates the journals, and the videos, and trying to “hit your targets” and “find your fluency.” He’d rather be quiet for the rest of his life than go to speech therapy. He’s come to terms with the fact that he’ll never “find his fluency.” And who is he talking to anyway? He never talks. He doesn’t need to talk.

“Fine,” his mom says, dropping her fork onto her plate. “But you’re going tomorrow and you’re telling Doris yourself that you’re quitting.”

Blaine knows he can handle that. It won’t be fun, but if it means the end of practice sets and an hour a week making a fool of himself and never improving, then he’ll take it.

“But I think you should still go to Paula,” his mom adds.

Blaine nods. He’s fine with that.

~~~~~

The next day Blaine is at his locker first thing in the morning and he doesn’t even notice Ben approaching.

“Hey!” Ben greets him enthusiastically.

Blaine looks over and waves, trying to be casual even though his mouth is a tight line and his eyes won’t stop blinking.

“Are you gonna join cross country?”

Blaine nods.

And Ben claps him on the back. “Awesome.”

Blaine gestures down the hall, he needs to get to class, and Ben falls into step next to him.

“I know we’re just freshmen, but I figure … “ Blaine stops listening to the words pretty quickly, and instead focuses on Ben’s mouth. How it just works. Blaine’s not sure he’ll ever understand how some people can talk but he can’t. No matter how hard he tries, the words that are in his brain don’t want to come out his mouth. So instead he observes other people’s mouths. Like right now, Ben’s mouth is just moving a mile a minute. Blaine looks at how the words come out of Ben’s mouth and he smiles and says things and laughs. And Ben has nice lips.

Blaine nods along when it seems like Ben is waiting for him to react, and blushes when Ben makes eye contact. He turns his eyes to the ground a few steps ahead of them, not wanting anyone to notice how intently he was just looking at Ben, particularly Ben.

Blaine knows there’s nothing wrong with being gay. He knows it. He’s just not actually sure that he is gay. And even if he is, it wouldn’t really make a difference in his life. No one is ever going to like him, not like that. No one is ever going to want to date him. He doesn’t even know how to have friends, how would he have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Girls are even scarier than boys. They make him even more nervous.

Maybe that’s why it seems like he likes Ben. Because it’s hard enough talking to guys. Talking to girls is like impossible. Talking is impossible. It doesn’t matter what he is, who he likes, if he can’t talk to people.

For now, he’s just not sure.

He’ll figure it out, if it ever needs figuring out. If dating someone ever turns out to be an option. He can’t really imagine that situation.

But for now, what he knows is that he likes Ben.

When they get to Blaine’s class, Blaine points to the door.

“I’ll see you at lunch. You should come sit with us,” Ben offers.

Blaine blushes and smiles. His heart pounds. “Thank you f-f-f-fuh-for helping mmmmm-me yesterday in English,” Blaine splits out, much to his own chagrin. That’s not what he meant to say.

“Oh, no big deal. I could tell Ms. Turner didn’t know what was going on. Figured you were … having trouble,” Ben shrugs. Like it was nothing, like Blaine wasn’t having a horribly mortifying moment in a long string of mortifying moments for the past 15 years of his life.

Blaine breathes out a nervous sigh and waves goodbye to Ben, turning into his next class.

No one ever asked him to sit at lunch with them. In elementary school they sat by class, and in middle school there were tables arranged alphabetically by your last name. But in high school, you can eat anywhere in the building. Blaine’s been eating alone in a stairwell that no one ever goes into. Sometimes it smells like cigarettes, but no one’s ever in it when he is.

He takes his seat in his class and stares at his desk. He won’t let himself get too excited. He can’t get ahead of himself. Just because Ben is being nice doesn’t mean other people will be. Just because he can sit by the cross country team at lunch doesn’t mean they’re going to be his friends. Not really.

When Blaine walks into the cafeteria at lunchtime, Ben sees him immediately and waves him over. Blaine takes a deep breath and walks towards the table.

He doesn’t know all the guys at it, but they look up when he approaches. Ben introduces him, saying that Blaine is going to join cross country, and they nod and smile and greet him with various shades of interest. Blaine takes a seat, and pulls his sandwich out of his lunch bag, keeping his eyes on the table. (He can’t buy lunch in the cafeteria. Ordering with all those people around is nearly impossible for him.)

He darts a glance at the other guys, and they’re all back to talking and eating, no one paying any attention to Blaine.

He takes a nibble of his sandwich.

Someone makes a joke, a nice joke, not a mean joke or a joke at someone else’s expense, and everyone laughs, including Blaine. And he takes a bigger bite of his sandwich.

“What’s your average mile time like, Blaine?” one of the guys asks him.

He can do this.

“Um, about, um, ss-ss-six and a half.”

~~~~~

A moment of Blaine’s mom

“How was school today?” I ask as he comes into the kitchen.

He eyes me warily. He always seems to think I have some kind of nefarious plot against him. Like if he tells me the wrong thing, I’m going to laugh at him or stab him with my grapefruit spoon.

I’m not sure when our relationship became so dysfunctional. I know part of it has to be just him being a teenager. It can’t be all my fault. It just seems as though the harder I try the more he pulls away. So I work on not trying so hard. And while he doesn’t pull away, I’m certainly not improving our relationship in any way.

I wonder what kind of person he would be if he didn’t stutter. He’s very funny, when he lets himself be, when he’s not too embarrassed to say what he’s thinking. And he’s so smart it almost hurts. But I wonder what he would be like without his limitations. Without the barriers that he’s set up around himself.

When he still doesn’t answer, I get a little worried. Usually he’ll tell me something.

“Are you okay, bud?” I ask.

He licks his lips, nodding, and then smiles briefly. “Yeah. I um, I, I, I w-w-was, well, I mean, I,” he huffs out a frustrated breath, crossing his arms and turning away from me a bit. He’s so embarrassed all the time. Everything embarrasses him.

He rubs at his neck. “One of, of the, um, guys on the cross country team invited mmmm-me t-t-t-ta-ta-to eat lunch with them today.”

My heart skips a little at the prospect. Blaine doesn’t have friends. Blaine doesn’t talk about the other kids at school.

I smile what I can only hope is my kindest, warmest, most patient smile, begging that he’ll tell me more. That maybe he’ll talk to me for a few minutes. “Did you say yes?” I ask. Realizing that just because he was invited doesn’t necessarily mean he joined them.

He nods.

“That’s great, Blaine.” I try to reel in my enthusiasm a little. Please sit down, Blaine, please tell me more, please keep talking.

But the moment is over, I can see it in his eyes. The walls all came back up.

“I’m gonna p-p-p-p-put my stuff away and, and, and then … ssssss-peech.”

“Yup. I’ll meet you back down here in a few.”

~~~~~

Quitting speech feels like lifting a rock off his chest. He feels lighter, happier, better than he has in a long time.

His mom is waiting for him in the parking lot. She gets out of the driver’s seat.

“How about you drive us home?” she offers.

“Really?” He wonders if this day could get any better. He’s pretty sure the answer is no.

“Yeah,” she says, tossing him the keys.

He got his permit a couple weeks ago, one of the few benefits of being the oldest kid in his grade.

They drive home, his mom makes chicken for dinner, and he spends the night playing a game online with people from his online stuttering group. He’s never met them in real life, but that’s okay, because it feels like he knows them, and it feels like the best day he’s had in years.

And it starts a pattern in his life.

Everything feels a little better everyday. He still doesn’t talk much, but he thinks he smiles and laughs more. None of the guys on the cross country team seem to mind him being around, he’s never heard any of them make fun of his stutter, not now or in the past. When they ask him to hang out, he says no, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to wear out his welcome. And it’s also because he’s nervous around them.

He tries not to be so nervous, he talks it over with Paula, but that’s just who he is. Groups of people, and interacting with groups, never fails to leave him feeling like he can’t breathe. He’d rather be at home and okay than out and breathless.

And Paula lets him know, again and again, that his feelings are valid, that he’s allowed to make that choice.

On the other hand, he doesn’t mind spending time with Ben. Well, no, that’s not right. He loves spending time with Ben. He’s the first person that Blaine thinks he could be friends with, and breathe around, and actually talk to, maybe. He can’t yet, not really, but he thinks there’s potential there. As long as Blaine doesn’t ruin it.

And to be fair, they don’t really hang out much, but they work on a project in health class together, and they meet up online to play games sometimes. One Sunday they go for a run on a trail that Ben discovered and it’s fun.

Ben makes conversation as they move along the trail, or at least makes one sided conversation. Blaine has some trouble keeping up with his constant flow of words. He hears everything, and laughs and nods appropriately, but trying to get out any of his own thoughts just doesn’t work. Ben’s already moved on to the next topic by the time Blaine has a sentence formed.

Right now Ben is talking about movies.

Blaine has lots of opinions about movies. He loves movies, watches them constantly. His Netflix queue is all over the map. He likes sad movies, funny movies, sexy movies, scary movies. He works through all of his thoughts, churning them around, wishing he could find something to add. He wishes he had a pensieve to put all of his thoughts into and then dredge up something appropriate and interesting to share.

“My … f-favorite mm-movie is Bah-bah-ack to the, the, the … Future,” he pushes out. He’s a bit out of breath from running, which actually helps his stutter apparently.

“The full trilogy? Or just the first one?” Ben asks, a bit breathless himself.

“Um, all of them,” Blaine says with a grin.

“Oh, man, but the third one is like...” Ben makes a pained face and shakes his head.

“It’s awful,” Blaine supplies.

“But you like it anyway?”

Blaine nods, blushing, embarrassed, but filled with something else too. Some emotion he doesn’t quite understand.

~~~~~

A moment of Paula

“So,” I begin expectantly. This is how I start most sessions. It’s a good way to get a handle on how Blaine’s feeling that day.

Blaine jiggles his knee anxiously.

“What’s up?” I like to keep things casual with Blaine. He responds well to it.

He shakes his head.

“Bad speech day?”

He shrugs.

I grab for a pad of pen and paper, and hand it over to him. “Anything specific?”

He sighs and starts to write.

My speech isn’t actually that bad today, but I know I can’t talk about this. I like this guy at school, Ben. I don’t want to tell him or anything, but I just needed someone to know. I like this girl too, so I’m not sure that I’m gay. It makes me feel weird. Good weird. A better weird than I usually feel and I just wanted someone to know. I wanted you to know.

I read this over several times.

“First of all Blaine, thank you for sharing this with me. It’s not ever easy to admit to having feelings for someone. Second of all, don’t get yourself all tangled up in labels. Don’t stress yourself out about it. Like whoever you want to like.”

He nods.

“And the fact that it’s a good weird should let you know that you’re doing something right. Even if you feel a little weird.”

“I feel weird,” he whispers.

“That’s okay,” I whisper back.

When he leaves that day, he gives me a hug. He needed it. But the truth is, so did I. I know it’s wrong in my line of work to have favorites, to have kids that you worry about more than others. But Blaine is without a doubt my favorite. I try to assuage myself by remembering that he’s been coming to me the longest of any of my patients at this point.

I might be too invested in his well being, I might be too close to his problems. But every time he smiles, it feels like my day gets brighter. I want good things for him. I want the best things for him.

I hope some day I get to see his life come to fruition.

At least for today though, I feel like he made progress. Any little bit of himself that he wants to share is an important piece and a wild improvement over the silent 13 year old who started coming 2 years ago.

~~~~~

Around Halloween, Blaine gets sick, really sick, misses a week of school. Ben texts him a couple times, asking how he’s feeling, when he’ll be back in school. Blaine is thrilled. It’s almost worth getting strep throat and a sinus infection just to have someone text him.

And he really likes Ben.

He’ll never tell Ben that, but it’s so ... nice. It makes him feel so happy. Not to mention that every time he jerks off he thinks about Ben’s lips now and it makes him understand what the big deal is. Jerking off thinking about a real person, someone who talks to him, someone who seems to kind of even not mind him, is way better than thinking about celebrities or kids at school that he doesn’t actually know.

And it turns out that even with the close of the cross country season, the guys on the team don’t start ignoring Blaine. They continue talking to him, they mention that he should run spring track, they ask him to hang out.

Christmas comes, and New Year’s with it. He’s invited to a party for New Year’s, but he just can’t quite convince himself to go. The idea of walking into a roomful of people, of trying to talk to them, or even just exist around them, makes him feel claustrophobic. 

He talks it over with Paula, and she insists that he should never do anything that makes him feel like that. That he’s finding other ways to get himself out of his comfort zone, that he doesn’t have to go to parties, lots of people don’t like parties. He wishes he could do it, but he tries not to get too down on himself for not wanting to.

He breathes a sigh of relief and rings in the new year playing The Sims. His parents are out at a party, so he plays his music loud and he dances even though he doesn’t really know how. He feels like he’s the most himself he’s ever been. At least since he was a kid, before he cared or worried so much about everything. 

When he was younger, he sometimes wondered why he was born. He assumes he was an accident, not that his parents ever said anything like that, but why would they wait ten years to have another kid? Did they really want him? He could probably ask his mom, but he’s not sure he wants to know the answer. And he’s not sure if he’d really believe her. 

As he’s gotten older, he still sometimes feels like he’s not sure what the point of his existence is. Not like he wishes he was dead or something, but just, what’s the point? What’s the point if he can’t approach people, or talk to anyone? He’ll never make an impression or an impact or a difference in anyone’s life because he spends all of his time trying to be invisible. Sometimes his best days are the ones where he makes absolutely no ripple at all.

He can’t even imagine what his life is going to be like in the far off “someday” of adulthood. It makes him feel panicky just thinking about it. He’s tried to find books with characters he can relate to, or that give him hope, a story that makes him believe everything will be okay. 

He sort of related to Charlie in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, but even Charlie made friends. Blaine’s not sure he’ll ever make friends like that. And books with adult characters who are shy and struggle in their day to day lives but somehow make it through and feel successful don’t actually seem to exist.

He wishes one existed. He thinks it would help him.

His New Year’s resolution is to try. He wants to try to talk to people more and to be less nervous. To try to interact and be more present in his own life. And maybe the more he tries the easier it will be.

January flies by and signs start popping up about a Valentine’s Dance. Stuff like that barely registers on Blaine’s radar, but he lets his thoughts drift sometimes to dancing with Ben, touching Ben, kissing Ben. It is Valentine’s Day after all.

A week before the dance though, reality crashes into Blaine and he has a hard time looking it in the face.

When he gets home after school, he slams the front door, kicking his shoes off in the foyer. Blaine doesn’t make noise, but today he lets his anger seep out via actions.

He’s not surprised to see his mom in the kitchen when he stomps in there for a drink, but she’s surprised by the angry look on his face.

“So, how was your day?” his mom asks, schooling her face into something less than shocked.

Blaine can’t help but scoff at such a loaded question.

She doesn’t just want to hear what he did in gym (played volleyball), or about the lab in biology (he couldn’t say the word “biology” at the moment if his life depended on it), or what book they’re reading in English. (To Kill a Mockingbird, and it’s making him feel an awful lot. There’s about an 80% chance that someday he’ll actually be Boo Radley.) She wants to know if he talked, who he talked to, how he felt talking to who he talked to.

It’s like.

She wants so much from him. But never the right stuff. But he doesn’t even know what the “right stuff” is. He just knows that something’s wrong with him. And today, he’s just not up to it. It’s too much today.

She wants to hear from a Blaine that doesn’t exist. One that has friends, and answers questions in class, who can make eye contact, and string together sentences that include words that begin with b, r, m, n, f, s, and sometimes t.

Instead he clenches his fists, making a mental note to clip his fingernails because he hates the way they dig into his palms.

He’s working really hard to get the phrase “not much” to come out of his mouth.

“Um. Um. Um, n-n-n, nuh, nuh-nuh-nuh,” he clears his throat and tries again. She’s looking at him. Why is she looking at him like that, as his mouth gapes open, and he blinks a thousand times? He wishes she wouldn’t look at him. Or at least, he wishes she wouldn’t look at him so intently.

He has this one speech therapy video that he’s watched over and over again, because he’s 99% sure that he blinks out “put me out of my misery” in Morse Code. No one else thinks it’s funny, but Blaine thinks it’s ridiculously hilarious. Every time he blinks lately, he thinks of that video. It doesn’t make him outwardly laugh, but it distracts him enough to make him less self conscious about blinking.

He’s still blocked on the n in “not” and he’s getting seriously bored with the whole process. Is this really worth it to you Mom? Is this really necessary? He wonders.

“Not mmmmmmmm-uch,” he finally spits out. His shoulders droop, and he finally feels able to breathe again. And he feels less angry than he did even a few seconds ago.

She searches his eyes, and instead of letting her, his gaze snaps to the floor.

“How did your history test go?” She asks. Blaine notices that she looks hopeful. He’s been talking to her more lately. Ever since he was sick, things have felt a little bit better between them and he can tell that sometimes she wants him to talk to her. Not just because she’s his mom, but because she’s interested, she wants to hear what he has to say.

Sometimes he wants to.

But not today.

He’s not in the mood today.

He swallows.

Shrugs.

“Are you okay, bud?” she asks. So kindly, face sincere and concerned.

What Blaine wants to say:  
The guy I like, yes, I like guys, perhaps we can discuss that some other time, because today I found out that he asked a girl to the Valentine’s Dance and she said yes. And I’m not surprised that he’s straight and that he doesn’t like me, but it still hurts. It hurts like a motherfucker. This is why I don’t talk to people. Because it hurts. I let him in, and I let myself open up a little bit, and now I feel like complete and utter shit. And I guess this is what happens when you like someone and they don’t like you back. But I’m not equipped for this, I don’t don’t know how to deal with this. And I certainly don’t know how to talk about this. And it always will go back to the fact that I don’t know how to talk. Except for this though. Because even if I could talk, it wouldn’t mean Ben was gay. Or bi. Or into me, period.

What Blaine says:  
Yeah.

She reaches up to hug him, her hands tentative, giving him time to pull away, to run if he wants. But he doesn’t want to. He lets her hug him.

He lets his eyes fall closed.

And he lets his breath sigh out of him.

And within 5 seconds he feels better.

Within 10 seconds, he feels like it’s going to be okay.

He pulls away, but not before she rubs his back.

She smiles at him.

And he can’t help the smile that lights his face.

“How about you play the piano for me, while I get dinner ready?” she asks.

This is one of their “things.” Over the years, the two of them have had so many routines. When he was little, she’d put him down for a nap and give piano lessons, and he knew never to get up until someone came to get him. As he got older, she would pick him up from school and they would food shop together every Tuesday. And now she likes him to play the piano while she does chores.

She had tried to teach Cooper the piano when he was younger and that went very poorly. So when it came time for Blaine to learn, they sent him to a different teacher, an older woman who lives down the street from them.

He used to be too nervous to play in front of his mom. She’s an incredible pianist. And he’s always felt subpar. But she’s been so encouraging of his playing that he feels like even if he’s terrible, she likes to hear him.

He nods. He still feels shitty, even if it’s a little bit better of a shitty, and thinks pounding away at the piano will be a great idea.

“Will you sing?” his mom asks.

He blushes. He never sings in front of people. She caught him playing and singing one day and he pretty much wanted the floor to swallow him. But since then, she always asks.

He shakes his head. “I’m not, not, nnnnn-not very good.”

“Blaine. You’re brilliant. I can’t sing and play the way you can. I can’t sing period though, who am I kidding.” She makes a self deprecating face and that gets a smile out of him.

“Maybe,” he concedes. “If I-I-I-I-I-I think of the r-r-r-r-right ssssss-ong.”

She smiles as he leaves the room.

He sits down and pounds on the keys through several classical pieces, thinking over his day. Just because Ben is going to the dance with some girl, doesn’t mean that Blaine can’t like him anymore, doesn’t mean that they can’t be friends. There was never going to be anything between them. Ben is straight and Blaine can’t talk.

But.

He can talk to Ben.

At least sort of.

He erases that thought from his brain.

He moves into more contemporary music, and allows his thoughts to continue whirring. He thinks about what he would say to Ben if he could talk. He thinks about what he would do with Ben if Ben was gay. Or into guys in any way, shape, or form.

Though, from what Blaine’s read on the internet, just because Ben wants to ask a girl to a dance, doesn’t mean that he might not also be into guys.

Blaine’s still not entirely sure he’s fully gay, so maybe Ben isn’t fully straight.

Maybe there’s always hope.

Blaine starts playing Angry Young Man by Billy Joel. He likes the way it makes him feel. He likes the way he can lose himself in it.

He doesn’t like the way he keeps messing up the Prelude.

So, he skips it and moves into the lyrics.

There’s a place in the world for the angry young man  
with his working class ties and his radical plans

He believes Billy Joel. He’s pretty sure there’s a place for him somewhere. He has to hope that there is, or that there will be someday.

Somewhere for a shy, stuttering, possibly gay, sort of angry weirdo.

But maybe. Maybe he won’t always be all that stuff.

Maybe someday he’ll just be Blaine.

~~~~~

The next day Blaine wakes up and decides to have a good day. He decides you can decide these things for yourself, the rest of the world be damned.

He puts on his favorite red t-shirt and pulls a black henley on over it. He likes how that looks, how the red looks peaking out from underneath. He wishes he was brave enough to wear red all the time, but red is so noticeable. Red is asking people to look at you. He saw a pair of red pants the other day at the mall. He wasn’t even brave enough to try them on. But maybe someday.

At school, Ben meets Blaine at his locker again.

Strangely, Blaine feels a little more able to speak around him today.

Maybe because the pressure is off, because nothing will ever happen between them, and they can just be friends now.

Or maybe Blaine’s decision to have a good day is working.

It’s hard to figure out, but when Ben asks how he’s doing, Blaine answers with more than just a shrug.

“I-I-I think I just nnn-nailed that m-m-math test.”

“Oh, man. I totally blew it. I know it,” Ben says, and Blaine can tell that he’s just getting started. Blaine still watches his lips move. Sometimes he wishes he was Ben almost as much as he likes Ben. If he were Ben, he would be able to talk, and he would be going to a school dance with the person he likes, and he would have friends. And he would be a nice guy. A guy who’s nice to guys who are shy, and dorky, and lonely. Blaine would be that guy.

But at least Blaine gets to be sort of friends with that guy.

Ben has plenty of other friends hanging around, he doesn’t need Blaine to drag him down. But at least Blaine can pretend sometimes.

So, Blaine smiles and nods and walks to class.

And it’s enough for now.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine rolls around in his bed. It’s early in the morning, he can tell. It’s dark out, and his mom will yell at him if he gets out of bed.

She’ll say, “Buddy! It’s too early to be awake!”

So instead he rolls around, and counts the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling. There are 24, there are always 24, but he counts them anyway.

When he’s done counting, he thinks about school, and how much fun he’s going to have at school today. He’s been going to school for 6 days.

It’s not kindergarten. Even though all the kids in his neighborhood who are his age go to kindergarten. It’s pre-school. And it’s pre-school for special kids.

He’s special because of his speech. Because he stutters. He doesn’t really like the word stutter, it’s hard to say. But in therapy and at school they said he could say it’s bumpy speech, but that’s hard to say too because it starts with a B.

He rolls over. Some of the kids in his class at pre-school have trouble talking, or they’re deaf, or some of them have autism, or they can’t walk. He’s learning a lot about all the different kinds of problems kids can have. He’s going to make friends with all of the kids in his class. He just knows it. If he could just stop being so scared of them.

And he’s not scared of them because of their problems, he’s scared of them because of other reasons. Reasons he has trouble making sense of. He gets butterflies in his stomach when he tries to talk to them, and his mouth won’t work. He knows they’re not going to laugh at him, he knows it. You’re not allowed to be mean or make fun of eachother in Blaine’s class.

But he just gets so scared. And he wants to hide. So sometimes he hides under the table, and then his teacher, Miss Pam, she crawls in by him and asks him if he’s okay. And he says yes. And she tells him he could come out and play whenever he wants. He wants to play all the time, but he feels scared. And then she asks if he’s feeling shy. He is feeling shy. He wishes he could talk and explain things. About his butterflies and his mouth. When he doesn’t say anything she tells him she’ll come get him for lunch and he nods. He likes it under the table.

Today he thinks maybe he’ll try not to hide under the table though. He’ll never make friends under the table probably. Some of the kids can’t even get under the table because they have wheelchairs. That’s sad. He feels sad for them.

He rolls over again, flopping around, trying to find a nice cool spot on his pillow. He wiggles and kicks at his sheets. He thinks maybe he should play with his animals. But then he strains his good listener ears, and he hears his mom talking to Cooper. It must really be morning now.

He leaps out of bed in his Batman pajamas. He feels like a superhero. Maybe if he pretends to be a superhero all day he won’t want to hide under the table so much.

He hears his mom’s footsteps in the hall and swings open his bedroom door.

~~~~~

A Moment of Blaine’s mom

I wake Cooper up at 6:15. And then again at 6:20. And one more time at 6:25.

“If you think you’re getting a shower before the bus comes, it’s now or never Coop,” I yell through the doorway. He mutters something unintelligible as I walk down the hall.

Blaine’s bedroom door whips open as I walk past. He stands there with his hands on his hips in his Batman pajamas and grins impishly at me.

“Good morning, Super Blaine,” I say.

He giggles.

“What do you want to wear to school today?” I ask him, walking over to his closet.

His speech therapist says to ask open ended questions as much as possible. Don’t force him to speak, but give him plenty of opportunities to formulate his own answers. And patience, patience, patience.

He looks up at me, and his face tenses. He bobs his head a few times and blinks.

“R-r-r-r, rrrrrrrrrr-red sw-sw-sweatshirt,” he puffs out.

I ruffle his hair, and he grins.

I put his sweatshirt out with a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and tell him to find a pair of socks. We’re working on him getting dressed by himself.

“What would you like for breakfast?”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Cereal?” he asks.

I smile. “What kind?”

“Lucky Charms!” he exclaims, hopping from foot to foot. He probably doesn’t need the sugar, but I have such a problem saying no to him these days when he doesn’t stutter.

“Alright, you put on your undershirt, sweatshirt, jeans, and socks, and then meet me in the kitchen for some Lucky Charms,” I tell him.

He claps his hands.

I leave his door open and head back downstairs. I hear the shower turn off as I’m going so at least I know Cooper didn’t fall asleep in there.

Ten minutes later, I’m pulling dishes out of the dishwasher, and Cooper breezes through the kitchen. He shoves an apple in his mouth and grabs a Capri Sun from the fridge.

“See ya, Mom,” he says, plucking the apple from between his teeth, kissing my cheek and sprinting for the door.

I finish with the dishes, and check the clock. It’s only 7 am. Blaine’s bus comes at 8:20, so we have plenty of time. But I have to wonder what he’s up to. He could play for hours, never noticing time passing, or that he hasn’t eaten.

I call up the stairs. “Blaine! Come eat breakfast, and then you can go back to whatever you’re doing.”

I turn back to the kitchen, and I hear his feet on the stairs, and then nothing, and then he screams. He never screams.

I turn around. “Blaine?”

After seven hours in the emergency room, we’re back home on the couch in the family room. Blaine has been crying on and off all day, wailing at times, seemingly unable to speak, aside from a few words here and there.

Right now he’s sitting in my lap, shaking like a leaf, but at least he’s stopped crying.

I pull the afghan up higher and squeeze him closer to me. He blinks heavily, and he starts sucking his thumb. I want to pull it out of his mouth, he didn’t even really suck his thumb as a baby, but it’s the first time since early this morning that he’s looked even a little comfortable.

His head is heavy on my chest and I finally feel his breathing even out. His whole body relaxes, and I rub his arm. I know Cooper’s going to be home soon, and I really want to stop him before he barges in and wakes Blaine up. In fact if I had been thinking I would have brought Blaine upstairs, to his bed, but the thought of carrying him up the stairs as soon as we got home seemed like an almost insurmountable task.

I slide out from under him, and prop him up on pillows. He’s definitely asleep, he doesn’t move a muscle. I make sure his long heavy cast is supported too, and then I go into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Cooper comes through the back door, making just as much noise as I expected.

I shush him, glad I caught him in time from waking Blaine up.

~~~~~

Blaine is asleep on the couch. At least, he thinks he’s asleep on the couch. The last thing he remembers was getting ready for school this morning. Did he go to school today? Is he sick? He knows he’s not very awake, and it’s dark out. Or his eyes are closed. But he’s too tired to open them. So instead he uses his good listener ears, because they’re not too tired.

He hears his mom.

“It’s a fracture of both the tibia and fibula.”

Does fracture mean break? Or is that something else? Blaine wonders. He has no idea what those other words are.

“No, my father drove us.”

Blaine doesn’t remember seeing Grandpa.

“He’s just really out of it. They had to sedate him to set the bone. He was fighting them a bit, didn’t like the needle.”

Who was fighting who? Blaine is more confused. But now his eyes have decided to be open, and the sun coming through the window makes them close up tight again. He wonders what time it is. He rolls his head and looks at the VCR. The numbers say 4:48, which is almost dinner time.

How can he forget everything from breakfast to dinner time? He closes his eyes again. They’re just so tired.

“Six to eight weeks and depending on how it heals they might need to put a smaller cast on then.”

She must not be talking about him.

“No, I asked the doctor. He said usually kids this little can’t use crutches.” She stops. “It’s big. Over his knee, more than halfway up his thigh. He can’t put any weight on it.”

Blaine is getting more confused. He thinks maybe he really is asleep.

“He’s going to be fine. The doctor said kids heal quick. Don’t worry. Don’t rush home. Finish up what you’re doing in Tokyo and we’ll see you next week like we planned.”

Well, Blaine knows she’s definitely talking to his dad, because his dad is in Tokyo. He goes to Tokyo all time.

“He’s sleeping now.”

If his mom is talking about him, then she’s wrong. Blaine’s not sleeping. He giggles because he’s totally tricking her. But then he tries to roll onto his side and it feels like there’s something heavy attached to his leg. Something heavy and he realizes his leg hurts. It’s hurts a lot. And he can’t roll over. His eyes snap open, and when he looks down, he sees a big white cast on his leg.

“Mommy!” he yells, surprising even himself.

“I gotta go, Greg. He just woke up.”

His mom’s voice is getting closer.

“Yes, yes. I’ll call you later. Yes. Greg. Love you, too.”

She hangs up the cordless and drops it on the chair before kneeling on the floor next to the couch.

“Hey, bud,” she says. “You’re okay. You just hurt your leg.”

She starts smoothing his hair, and he tries to sit up. She helps him slide higher on the couch cushion.

Blaine thinks he might cry.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

He nods.

“How about we give you some medicine so it stops hurting and then we eat dinner? I bet you’re really hungry.”

He nods again. “Chicken?”

He’s not sure if he’s hungry though, because all of a sudden his leg hurts so much. But he thinks maybe if it didn’t hurt, he would be really, really hungry.

“Of course. Grandpa and Gramma are coming soon.”

He feels his lips quiver, and his mom kisses his forehead.

“It’s okay, buddy, it’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

She slides up onto the couch and pulls him up on her lap, holding him close.

His leg still hurts, but he feels better. She makes him feel better.

~~~~~

After a few days of his leg hurting a lot a lot, Blaine notices that it doesn’t hurt the same way. He can’t walk, and his mom has to carry him places, but it’s okay.

The first time Blaine leaves the house after breaking his leg is four days later when his mom and his gramma take him to the doctor. They drive there, but then his mom pulls a stroller out of their trunk in the parking lot.

“I’m nnnn-not a b-b-b-b-baby!” he cries from inside the car when he sees it.

Gramma sticks her head into the car door. “We know big boy. But you’re so big that we can’t carry you this far. So we’re going to put you in this special stroller for big kids. Haven’t you seen big kids in strollers like this?”

Blaine thinks hard about this. He’s not sure. He knows it’s the kind of stroller that mommy’s and daddy’s usually run with. Because his mommy and daddy used to put him in it and run. He thinks maybe Gramma’s right, but he’s really not sure.

He makes a face and crosses his arms.

Gramma moves away from the door, and his mom sticks her head in.

“We have to go to the doctor. When we get in there, you can ask him yourself.”

She unbuckles him from his seat, and hefts him out the door and into the stroller, strapping him in quickly.

He’s still not happy about this and feels very embarrassed.

Gramma kneels down. “Why are you being Mr. Crankypants?” she asks.

He makes a mad face.

“Oh no! You don’t make faces like that at me, Mr. Crankypants. No way.”

He makes his face even madder. He refuses to laugh. He knows Gramma is trying to make him laugh and it’s not going to work.

“Well, Michelle. I think maybe we should just leave him here and drive away. What do you think?” Gramma says.

Blaine looks at his mom, who shrugs.

“It’s not a terrible idea. He’s been a big meany lately and I am very tired of it.” His mother’s face isn’t smiling. Maybe she’s not teasing. Maybe she really will leave Blaine in the parking lot at the doctor’s office.

“Noooooo!” he wails. “I’ll s-s-s-s-ssss-top.”

After that they go inside. And Blaine decides to no longer be a Mr. Crankypants. Mostly because the idea of his mom and gramma leaving him in a parking lot seems like a very terrible way to live. He would much rather get to live in his house.

When they get inside the doctor’s office, they have to sit and wait. But because he was such a good boy, the nurse gives him a sticker.

And then when they’re in the exam room, the doctor gives him another sticker.

And then after he gets an x-ray, they give him another sticker.

And when they’re leaving he gets another one.

He tucks them into the pocket of his favorite red sweatshirt. He’s not sure what he wants to do with them, but he thinks about them the whole ride home. They drop Gramma off at her house, and then they go to their house.

His mom carries him into the family room. When they get there, Cooper’s sitting on the couch.

“Can you keep an eye on Blaine for a bit while I start dinner?” his mom asks Cooper.

“Sure. Can I draw on your cast yet?” Cooper asks Blaine.

Blaine frowns. Cooper tried to draw on his cast the other day, but it hurt too much. Blaine thinks maybe now it doesn’t hurt as much, so he nods.

His mom puts him on the couch next to Cooper.

“Nothing inappropriate, Coop. He’s five.” And then his mom leaves the room to start dinner.

“So what can I draw?”

Blaine leans his elbows on his legs and puts his face in his hands, thinking about this.

“Insects,” he finally says.

Cooper goes in search of the markers and when he gets back he draws a ton of awesome bugs all over Blaine’s cast. Bumblebees and ladybugs and beetles and caterpillars. And then he tickle tortures Blaine for a little while, until Mom yells from the kitchen for them to stop before Blaine hurts his leg even more.

“She’s no fun,” Cooper whispers, tickling Blaine a little more.

~~~~~

A moment of Gramma

“So, why don’t you send him back to school?” I ask Michelle one afternoon over a cup of tea. Blaine is playing quietly on the floor in the family room, making a line of matchbox cars as best he can by scooting around.

“Well, I just feel terrible to add to everything they already have going on there. We’d have to get him a wheelchair, which isn’t a huge deal, but he wouldn’t be able to maneuver it everywhere himself, so one of the teachers would have to help him a lot. And they’re already so overtaxed.”

I nod. “It’s a shame for him to miss so much school so early.” It’s already been two weeks and the school year really had just started when he hurt himself.

Michelle shrugs.

I pat her hand.

“I just want to be able to see him all the time. I’m so worried about him now, hurting himself more, or … “ She stops and shakes her head. “Or something happening, and him not being able to explain it to anyone because he’s blocked. If his leg hurts too much, or … ” Again she trails off.

“You realize eventually you’re going to have to let him grow up.”

She nods again.

“And school is good for him.”

“I’ll send him back when he gets his cast off, it’s just pre-school. It’s not like he’s missing the SATs.”

I sigh. He’s missing more than schoolwork, but I don’t want to fight with her. Her eyes are so tired lately, and with Greg back in Tokyo again, everything is falling into her lap.

The doorbell rings signaling her piano student before she can say anything else, and I shoo her from the kitchen. I wash our mugs and then go into the family room.

“Hello, big boy.”

“Hi, Gramma,” he says with a big smile. He’s in a much better mood now that he’s not taking any kind of pain medicine. He was in a foul mood for almost a week, but now he’s much more like my Blaine.

“How about we do a puzzle?”

He thinks about that for a second. “No, thank you.” And then lets out a little yawn. He doesn’t nap anymore, but I know carrying around the extra weight of the cast makes him sleepier at this point in the day.

“How about we sit on the couch and watch Family Feud?”

He smiles at that idea and scoots himself over to the couch.

“You’re getting very good at that,” I tell him.

He positively beams up at me and again I think how happy I am that his usual sunny disposition has returned.

He puts his arms up on the couch, and half stands on his good leg before sliding onto the cushions. I help him move over to the other part of the sectional, so he can stretch his cast out and cuddle in next to him, turning on the tv.

“Oh! It’s a Richard Dawson episode. He’s the best host.”

Blaine doesn’t answer, but he cuddles into my side and grins.

~~~~~

Another week goes by and Blaine gets ants in his pants, as his mom says. He’s always getting into something. Trying to climb up the stairs to get his stuffed animals, and he wants to play in the backyard, even though the grass is wet and his cast will get all dirty. He really wants to go on the swings, but that is a big no-no.

“If I put you in the stroller we could go for a walk, but I don’t want you to whine,” his mom says one morning while she’s helping Blaine put on shorts. It’s getting too cold for shorts really, but nothing else fits over his cast. She’s tried cutting a leg off of his sweats, but the leg hole doesn’t quite make it. So she just keeps putting him in shorts.

“I-I-I-I-I am nnnnnn-not a crankypants,” he tells her.

“Okay, I believe you. How about we walk to the library?”

“Yay!” Blaine yells, forgetting about his leg for a second and trying to stand up to jump on his bed.

“Hey, Super Blaine, what do you think you’re doing?” his mom asks, pulling him back down on his bottom.

He giggles. She gives him a t-shirt and sweatshirt to put on and he takes off his pajama shirt. He doesn’t even put his sweatshirt on backwards.

After that he puts on his one shoe and sock, and his mom covers the toes on his other foot with a little sock and then carries him downstairs. He eats his Lucky Charms all up and brushes his teeth and doesn’t whine at all when his mom buckles him into the stroller and covers his legs with his favorite blue afghan.

He bounces up and down in his seat. He loves going to the library. He asks his mom about all the books they can check out, and she says “yes, of course” to each one.

When they get there, she parks the stroller and puts him down on the carpet in front of the easy readers.

“Pick out one easy reader that you think you can read yourself. And I’ll go find all the books that you told me about on our way here.”

Blaine nods, and begins looking for the perfect book.

When they leave, he gets another sticker, not to mention a million books and videos.

~~~~~

A moment of Greg

The six weeks with Blaine’s cast on have flown by. I doubt Michelle feels that way, since she’s the one who’s been here with him the whole time, and I’ve only been here for two of the six weeks, but she’s been a trooper. Not complaining, just doing what she has to do to keep Blaine from going stir crazy.

I’m home the day he gets his big cast off, so I go with them to the doctor.

There’s another round of x-rays and the doctor feels like it’s healing really well, but like he suspected, he’s going to put Blaine in a short cast for two weeks, just to give the bone a little extra stabilization.

“It’s pretty standard procedure,” he explains. “We’ll give him a walking shoe with it, and he’ll be running around in no time.”

When the doctor takes out the saw to cut Blaine’s cast off, he lets out a tiny shriek.

I put my arm around his shoulders, and he clings to me.

“It’s okay, buddy.”

He looks up at me with wet eyes.

“Where’s Mommy?”

“She’s right here,” I say, and gesture behind me.

“I want Mommy,” he says in a tiny voice.

I feel a bit stung, but I guess I haven’t been around much lately. I move over to let Michelle in. She rubs his back, and the doctor cuts off his cast. Blaine is fascinated by how skinny his leg looks.

“Now we’re going to put a different, smaller cast on, okay Blaine?”

Blaine’s eye are wide and he nods.

“Do you want to pick a color?”

He leans into the Michelle, and looks up at her.

“What’s wrong?”

He tugs on her arm, and she leans down so he can whisper.

“You can say that,” she tells him.

He looks at the doctor nervously.

“R-r-r-r-r-red.” He smiles. “Please.”

He’s such a good kid, I think.

When it’s time for him to walk on his new cast, he’s nervous. It’s written all over his face. Michelle puts him on his feet, or foot really, he stands there holding her hand and keeping his cast off the floor.

I kneel down in front of him. “It’s okay, buddy, you can put your foot down.”

He stares at me, like I’m talking crazy, and then he looks up at Michelle who smiles and nods. The doctor rolls his stool to the far corner of the room.

“Come on, Blaine,” he says. “Walk over here to me, and I’ll give you a sticker.”

Blaine peeks around me at the doctor, who sits there holding up a happy face sticker. The kid is a sticker addict these days. He takes his hand from Michelle’s and puts it on my knee, gingerly lowering his foot to the floor. He slides it awkwardly and then takes a step with his good leg. Slide, step, slide, step, he repeats.

“Blaine,” the doctor says. “Does your leg hurt?”

Blaine shakes his head.

“Can you pick your foot up when you walk?”

He nods. He makes tentative little marching motions, kicking his foot a little to the side.

The doctor looks over at Michelle and I. “He might need physical therapy, but we’ll decide next time he comes in. This might just be fear holding him back right now.”

Blaine has made his way slowly to the doctor and holds his hand out shyly for his sticker.

“Good work, Blaine,” the doctor tells him, handing him the yellow happy face.

Blaine turns around and beams at us. He’s such a smiley kid.

~~~~~

Two days later, Blaine and his mom go to school. She drives him his first day back, because she thinks it will help him be more comfortable. He could hardly sleep last night because he was so scared. He was thinking that maybe he could hide under the table for a little while today. That would be good.

They walk down the hall, and Blaine holds her hand. He can walk better now, his leg doesn’t hurt at all, and he really likes his red cast.

They enter his classroom, and all the other kids are already there.

Miss Pam waves at him. “Look guys, Blaine is back!”

He hides behind his mom’s leg. Everybody’s looking at him, and the butterflies in his stomach are going in a hundred different directions.

Miss Pam comes over, and his mom tells her about how he still has to be careful and he can’t really play outside, but that he’s okay to walk and he’s happy to be back at school. He stays behind his mom’s leg because he hates when people talk about him almost as much as when people look at him.

“How about you come sit down,” Miss Pam says, holding out her hand to him. He swallows and takes it.

He looks at his mom, and she takes a step backward, blowing a kiss at him. He blows a kiss back.

“We’re coloring letters today,” Miss Pam says as he sits down.

He looks at the crayons and paper in front of him, and then glances towards the door to see his mom leaving. She’ll come back for him, he’s sure she’ll come back. She didn’t leave him in the parking lot even when he was being a crankypants, she definitely won’t leave him at school forever. So he takes a deep breath and colors all the letters the way Miss Pam tells him too.

And then when it’s play time, he hides under the table.

It’s just really nice under there.


	6. Chapter 6

A moment of Michelle (March, 1989)

It’s sunny but not too warm. I look across the big backyard, bigger than it should be it seems to me, and I see Cooper on a swing set. Long legs and floppy hair, older than I ever remember him looking.

I put a hand up to block the sun, and there’s a little boy on the swing next to him, pumping his legs so hard on that swing set. Pumping himself into a great big arch, trying so hard to keep up with Cooper, who’s obviously quite a few years older.

I watch the little boy swing, his legs working twice as hard as Cooper’s, his dark curls bouncing, the sun picking up golden highlights in his hair. I wish I could see his face, but the way the sun is setting, his face is in shadow. I’d love to call his name, get his attention, have him come into the house and eat cookies and milk.

Instead I stand on the deck and wave. I feel a hand on my shoulder and assume it’s going to be Greg, home from work, watching the boys with me. 

~~~~~

When her eyes blink open into the pitch dark room, the hand on her shoulder is Cooper’s.

Five year old Cooper, not the tall, lean Cooper from her dream.

“Hi mommy,” he says.

“Pally,” she whisper, not wanting to bother Greg if she doesn’t have to. He just flew in from California last night. “It’s too early to be awake! Look at the numbers on the clock, look at how dark out it is.”

He looks at the clock and then back at me. “4-4-8.”

She shakes her head. “Too early.”

He leans on the mattress in front of her. “Can I snuggle by you?”

“Coop, you know you’re a big boy, and big boy’s sleep in their own beds.” Cooper hasn’t wanted to sleep with his parents for months, not since they got him his new bed. There’s nothing special about it, not really, except that they made a point of touting it as “big boy.”

He frowns, and leans his face close to hers, stage whispering, “I had a bad dream.”

“I had a weird dream,” she says, absentmindedly, the images from it coming back strong. She shakes her head and refocuses her attention on Coop.

“How about I come back to your bed until you fall asleep?”

He considers this option and chews his lip. “Okay.”

They walk the few steps back to his bedroom, and upon entering he leaps onto the bed.

“Whoa there Super Cooper!”

“Super Cooper!” he shouts.

“Shh, shh. Remember, Daddy’s sleeping?”

He nods his head and holds a quiet finger to his lips, throwing himself down on the mattress again.

“Save some room for Mommy.”

He scooches over on the mattress and she crawls in next to him.

“So, tell me about this dream,” she says, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, and kissing his temple.

He settles against her, playing with the owl on her necklace.

“All of the trees came to life and they were chasing me.”

“Oh, no! That sounds terrible.”

“And I couldn’t find you, and I kept running and running.”

“Aw, pal. I’m so sorry. That sounds so scary.”

He nods his head. He’s quiet for a moment, and then looks up at her.

“What was your dream about?”

“We were in the backyard, and you were old. And very tall. You were swinging on the swings with a little boy and he was trying to keep up with you.”

“I bet that’s my little brother,” he tells her earnestly.

She smiles. “That’s what it felt like, to me.”

His body relaxes even more and she feel his breathing slowing down. From her angle, she can see his eyes blink heavily.

“Would you like a little brother?”

He nods again, this time more slowly, yawning. “Then he could help me escape from the trees.”

She rubs his back until they both fall asleep.

~~~~~

The next day the feeling of the dream lingers with Michelle. She can’t seem to shake it. She mentions it to Greg when he comes down for breakfast. She flips his pancakes and tells him all the details she remembers. Cooper already ate his breakfast, and he’s in the family room laughing at Saturday morning cartoons.

“You know within five minutes of waking up you forget half your dream?” Greg says conversationally. “And you forget 90% of it within ten minutes?”

She pauses, leaning her hip on the stove. “That’s interesting, but not the point.”

“What’s the point?” he asks, getting up from the table to pour them coffee as Michelle plates their pancakes.

“Well,” she pauses, and takes a deep breath, both of them taking a seat at the table. “I think we should have another baby.”

Greg looks taken aback. “You got that from your dream.”

“Not entirely. I’ve been thinking it a lot lately. We’re more stable financially. Cooper’s getting big, you’re traveling less and less.”

“For now, yes. But we’re going to be expanding the firm to Japanese interests within the next few years. That’s going to be my project.”

Michelle sighs. “I thought we wanted more kids.”

“I do. We do. I just don’t want to saddle you with all of the responsibility.”

She’s rolls the idea around in her head a bit. The idea of resenting Greg, or feeling like Greg leaves her stranded with all the responsibility. He’s not that kind of person. Even when he’s busy, he’s the most considerate person she knows. He’s always calling and checking up, making sure she has everything she needs before coming home from work. If she’s tired or busy, he’ll scoop Cooper up and take him out for the day, to the park, or to see his parents, or to a baseball game if it’s the right season. He’s thoughtful. She doubts very much expanding their family could change that.

“I don’t think I would feel like that,” she tells him honestly. “I mean, I don’t want to be a single mom, but I think I can handle you being on business trips. And didn’t you always say your life would have been so much better if you had a sibling?”

“There are a variety of qualifiers that could have changed my life for the better,” he admits with a sheepish grin, filling his mouth with pancake.

Cooper comes into the kitchen and takes “his” seat at the table, propping his chin in his hand.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello,” Greg greets back.

“Watcha guys doing?” Cooper says.

“We’re eating breakfast,” Michelle answers.

“We should go to the park,” Cooper tells them seriously.

“Should we?” Greg says to Michelle, teasing in his voice.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I might be busy,” Michelle says with a grin.

Cooper narrows his eyes at both of them.

“I suppose we should go to the park,” Greg says. 

“But maybe we should leave Cooper at home?” Michelle asks.

“Yeah,” Greg agrees. “Maybe you and I will just go. We’ll go on the swings, and the slide, and…” 

Cooper interrupts. “No! Take me with you! I want to go! Please!” And then he throws himself dramatically on the kitchen floor on his knees.

‘Well, how can we say no to that?” Greg asks.

“Yes. We’ll take Cooper to the park with us. It’s decided.”

Greg turns in his chair and pats his lap. Cooper hops up on it. “You weren’t really going to the park without me right?”

“We may never know,” Greg says seriously.

~~~~~

After a little more conversation, Greg and Michelle decide to try. They don’t go overboard trying, Michelle doesn’t start making charts or calendars, although she does consider it. She really would like to have another baby, particularly before they get too old. Not that she and Greg are old right now, he’s 32 and she’s 29, but they’re not getting any younger. 

They idly discuss baby names here and there, Michelle letting Greg know in no uncertain terms that the responsibility of naming the second child will fall to him.

“I picked Cooper because it was my mother’s maiden name. He turned out to be a very good Cooper, but I might not get lucky like that again,” she tells him one night with a grin.

He smiles, thinks about his own relatives. His mom’s maiden name is Pencilman. That is not an appropriate name for a child. 

“My mom had an aunt named Adelaide that I was quite fond of.”

“Adelaide,” Michelle says with a grin. “Adelaide Anderson is nice.”

“I have no idea for a boy though. I’ll get back to you on that one.”

They continue trying. They don’t tell many people, not wanting to jinx themselves. But after 6 months of trying, Michelle does feel a bit discouraged. She tells herself she was young when she first got pregnant with Cooper, and it happened so quickly. She shouldn’t assume it will go the same way again. But she just can’t help feeling discouraged.

And she’s even more discouraged when Greg comes home with good news, as antithetical as that may be. Not only did his firm get a big, new, important client in Japan, but they’re putting Greg in charge of operations over there. They even want him to move to Tokyo.

He gets home late the night they offer him the promotion, and Michelle’s in their room, getting ready for bed.

The discussion doesn’t turn into a fight, per say, because he’s listening, but it puts Michelle so far on edge she feels like she’s falling.

“I will do whatever you think we should do,” she tells him, sitting on the bed, rubbing cream into her hands.

“You know that’s not the answer I’m looking for, Mish.”

“It’s the best I have right now,” she says with a shrug, unable to make eye contact.

“You don’t want to go.” His voice is just a touch defeated as he leans on the doorframe of the closet.

“I really don’t want to go,” she admits.

“You’re allowed to say that.”

She’s quiet, waiting for him to reveal his own opinion. Sometimes she needs to just be quiet with Greg. Sometimes he’s still very reserved. She can imagine him as a child when he’s like this, so reticent. Usually he hides his shyness well, but those times when his walls are down are the times she loves him the most. When what she wants to do is protect him, and just love him. Because life hasn’t always been kind to him.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t want to move. But I have to be there. Particularly at the beginning.”

“How long?” she asks, standing up from the bed and turning around.

“God. Six months? They’re not even sure yet.”

“Six months!” she exclaims.

“At least,” Greg says, exhaustion apparent in his features.

“And this is something you really want?” she asks.

He looks at her, measures her with his eyes. “There’s a thin line between want and need.”

“There is. Do you think we need this?” She steps around the bed. She feels weird about how they’re having this conversation, like they’re keeping a wall between them. Maybe because it feels like some kind of negotiation, like they should have a conference table to sit at and a stenographer following along.

“I think we’ll be set for life after my parents die and the trust matures. But it’s in their will that I don’t get anything until I’m 45. Until then, this opportunity is what we have.”

She knows about the stipulation in their will. She’ll never quite understand it, but it’s there. She can’t change it. Complaining about it, or worrying over it won’t get them that money any sooner.

She toys with the owl on her necklace, thinking about wisdom. Praying for a little bit of wisdom in this moment that feels so wrong.

“We’re doing well, don’t you think? Between your position now and my piano lessons, we manage. We’re not going to lose the house or anything. I could take on some hours with my uncle, maybe sell some houses? My real estate license is still good.”

She says this absently, wanting to say anything to keep Greg here with her. The idea of him leaving for six months (or more) makes her panicky in unexpected ways. Not just because they were getting settled with the idea of having another child, but because he’s her best friend. She misses him when he’s gone for a week or two. She misses him sometimes when he’s right next to her but not with her.

It’s been happening for a while, the feeling of him not being whole and present. It doesn’t happen at home, only when they’re out. When they’re being Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Anderson, esquire, she feels it.

The disconnect.

It upsets her, but she doesn’t know how to talk to him about it. She doesn’t want to hurt his feelings or make him think she’s judging him for the show that he has to put on sometimes for clients and superiors. Because she’s well aware it’s only due to his own insecurities and nerves that he can’t always be himself.

She wishes everyone could know the Greg she knows. The one whose eyes light up at everything Cooper says, the one who whistles while he mows the lawn. The one who looks at her sometimes with the depth and hope and light of a thousand suns. The one who legitimately thanked her on their wedding night for giving him a chance, for listening to him when he felt like no one else ever really wanted to. 

On the other hand, she knows he has to go. She knows it, she feels it, and she hates to admit it, but she believes it’s the opportunity that he needs to maybe finally feel confident in himself. And to not worry so much.

“We’re doing good, not great,” he says, stirring her out of her thoughts.

She moves to stand in front of him, laying her head on his shoulder. He stands up straighter, snaking his arms around her waist.

“You should go. Cooper and I will stay here, and watch the ranch. We’ll come visit you when he’s off from school in the summer. And you can come home, I’m sure, every once in awhile. They still have to let you have vacations. I hear even Japanese people get vacations.”

He kisses her temple.

“Thank you,” he says and he means it.

Things happen quickly after that. Within two weeks Greg is gone, his firm springing for an extended stay hotel rental near their new offices. She spends a lot of time with her parents. Her sister Kathy is considering getting a divorce, so Michelle is there for her as much as she can be.

And it’s okay. It’s not easy but it’s okay.

He calls every night the first week and then misses a day. Michelle tries not to think about it. He does call the next evening, apologizing profusely. The time difference, he was busy, went out with some new work friends, he’ll do better. She feels like her heart is crumbling just because he sounds so sad. He sounds like a kid away at summer camp, torn between missing his family, and feeling guilty because he does kind of like it.

Those first six months, Greg only makes it back to Ohio for long weekends. They try to fit as much as possible into all of his trips and Michelle pounces on him every time he shows up. When school ends, Michelle and Cooper go to Tokyo and spend a month there with Greg. 

Time keeps moving, as it tends to. A year later and Michelle is still without child. Greg’s in Tokyo, again, on and off only these days, unlike the first two years of his position. He had been home for six months straight recently. Michelle thought for sure that she would have gotten pregnant during that time.

“I just don’t understand it,” she says to her mom one day while they’re out to lunch. Cooper’s in second grade already, so she makes plans with her mom for lunch at least once a week. It’s good for both of them to get out of the house and break up the monotony. 

Her mom sighs. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be, Michelle.”

“But I really want this baby.”

“Maybe it’s not in God’s plan.”

Michelle stops herself from rolling her eyes. She’s a lapsed Catholic at best, but she does her best not to disrespect her mother’s religious leanings. 

Instead she nods.

“Maybe this is just how it’s supposed to be. You and Greg will be happy with Cooper, and life will go on. And one day you’ll see that it was all part of the plan.”

“But I can see him, Mom. I see him everywhere. This little boy with curly hair and a red sweatshirt.”

“Are you actually seeing children, Michelle?”

She shakes her head. “You know what I mean. I was with Cooper at the park the other day and there was a little boy and just looking at him made my heart twinge. And I have dreams. Dreams about another child.” She trails off. “It’s just something I want so deeply. It’s like I’ve never met him, but I miss him.”

Her mother takes her hand across the table. “I understand feelings, Michelle. I understand that sense that only a mother can I have. I have six kids myself. I know about these things. But that doesn’t mean you’re supposed to have this baby.”

“But he’s … mine. Already.”

“What if he isn’t a he?”

“Well, then I’ll have to rearrange some pronouns. But it feels like he would be a he.” She smiles to herself. “A very Greg-ish little boy. The opposite of Cooper.”

Her mom pats her hand.

“Maybe you should think about adopting. If you’re this set on a baby.”

“That’s not quite it. I mean, I think it’s a wonderful idea in theory, but …” Michelle shakes her head. “I’ll think about it as an option, Mom. Okay?”

Conversation moves on after that, but Michelle still sees the little boy, her little boy around every corner and in the cobwebs of her mind.

Another year goes by. 

It’s Cooper’s 8th birthday. Greg’s parents are “unavailable” for the party. Michelle is pissed to say the least.

“They’re just such dickheads,” she mutters to her sister Kathy, after the elder Anderson’s call at the last second to say they won’t make it. “I mean, I know it’s just his 8th birthday, it’s not that big of a deal. But really, what better things to do they have to do today?”

Kathy shrugs, used to hearing her sister’s wrath about her in-laws. She tries not to say anything to set Michelle off these days. She’s knows Michelle is angry at the world because she still can’t get pregnant. Kathy’s terrified of announcing her own pregnancy to Michelle. But she’s going to have to eventually, just not today. Today she’ll let her younger sister rant and rave, and she’ll be a kind ear.

Michelle does her best to shed her anger about her husband’s parents as the party goes on. She watches Cooper with his friends and his cousins, decides she’s being silly. She didn’t really want them there anyway.

It’s not until Monday morning that they learn the real reason that the elder Andersons couldn’t make the party. 

Greg’s dad is in the hospital, with a brain tumor.

Michelle is livid.

She understands not wanting to tell them immediately, to let them have the time for Cooper’s party, but to wait another 36 hours seems almost cruel.

But then she realizes that they’re never going to win with her. Whatever they choose to do, whatever path they take will always be the wrong one in her mind. She hates how they treat her husband. She’s always felt wrong around them. Like they look down their noses at every move she and Greg make.

Still though, they’re Greg’s parents.

Greg takes the news the way he always takes news. Stoically, with concern, but logical concern. No tears, no wall punching. This tumor is basically a death sentence, and he’s reacting to it the same way he reacted the time Cooper had to get stitches after falling off his bike.

Though she can tell that he is sad. He’s sadder than he’s letting on. 

His father has brain surgery, and they remove what they can of the tumor, but the surgeons say it’s a losing battle. Thomas Anderson is a badgery old coot and Michelle thinks he’ll fight like no one has ever fought before. 

Unfortunately it’s a fast growing cancer and not much can be done. The news of his father’s impending death shakes Greg to the core and over the next few months, Michelle really notices a change in him. He gets out of going to Tokyo more, he spends more time at home, he makes a point of visiting his parents once a week. There does seem to be a shift in his priorities and Michelle has nothing but respect for that. 

A little over a year after his diagnosis, Greg’s father passes away, followed just a few months later by his mother. They didn’t realize just how little she had been taking care of herself during his father’s illness. She had undiagnosed breast cancer and never did anything about it.

The night of his mother’s funeral, after the distant relatives have left, and Michelle and Greg are back home, he cries. Alone in their bedroom, he cries. But he’s not alone for long. Michelle finds him sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair. Michelle sits next to him, rubbing a hand across his back, knowing instinctively that when he wants more comfort, he’ll let her know. He leans into her as he starts to calm down, and she brings her arms around him.

“Seemed like you needed that,” she says quietly.

He chuckles, wetly, and she reaches for a tissue, which he gratefully accepts.

“Times like this I wish I had a sibling. Someone to be here with me,” he says.

“I’m here with you,” Michelle murmurs, pressing her lips to his ear.

“I know. I do. I just … feel anchorless or something.” He sits up, running his hands over his face, a small sob escaping his throat. “Like I have no family.”

“Cooper and I are your family,” she reminds him. “We love you so much. So much, Greg.” She feels tears in her own eyes now.

He sighs, and looks at her and smiles sadly. “I know, I swear I know,” he says. “I just have a lot of thoughts fighting in my head.”

“I swear I’m trying to understand. But I think I do know, if only because I can’t imagine what my life would be like without my brothers and sister.”

Greg nods.

Michelle slides off the bed to kneel in front of him. She feels like she’s imploring him not to fall apart. She has no idea how to put him back together if he falls that far, that fast.

“They love you too, you know, Kathy and my brothers. They think of you like one of their own. You know that, you wouldn’t have been the best man in two of their weddings if they didn’t love you so much. We’re all here for you. And my parents, my parents love you so much Greg. And Cooper. Coop idolizes you Greg.”

He leans his forehead on hers, and his breath comes in hitches. 

She kisses him. She’s never seen him like this. Never.

“And I love you. I love you so much, please don’t forget that. I know everything that happened with your parents, happened so fast. But I will do anything to make you feel okay. You don’t have to be anything besides okay.”

He swallows heavily, and blows out a deep breath. He looks at her and she puts a hand on his cheek.

“Okay?” she asks.

He nods, and takes her hands in his, draws her to stand with him.

They’re just about the same height, so he puts his chin over her shoulder and she hugs him close.

They stay like that for who knows how long, before climbing into bed and turning off the light.

~~~~~

About a month later, Michelle has the flu.

She feels like death.

Can’t keep anything down, gets dizzy at the drop of a hat, she’s groggy and lethargic all day long. Greg’s worried enough that he takes the day off from work and goes with her to the doctor. His parents deaths loom large in his mind, and he can’t fight the feeling that he’s too close to losing Michelle.

But it’s not death that’s knocking for Michelle. It’s the second baby that she’s wanted for the past four years. The one that she’d pretty much given up on. The one that she never expected to have.

In the middle of the joy, Greg still feels the pull of sadness. But he’s assuaged by the idea of leaving Cooper with someone. And leaving someone with Cooper.

Michelle swears up and down it’s a boy. She just knows it. She doesn’t even want to find out the sex, because she knows.

Greg for his part scours baby name books. Keeps Adelaide at the back of his mind for a girl, but just can’t find the perfect name for a boy. He refuses any of Michelle’s help. 

“I’m going to name this guy on my own,” he tells her. “It’s the least I can do.”

Months pass, Michelle rounds out in a way she didn’t with Cooper. 

“I think I might be too old for this,” she mutters to Greg one night. She feels claustrophobic in their recliner chair, so she moves over the couch and Greg massages her feet. She feels too big to be much use. Feels like she barely able to reach the piano keys most days, and she’s only 7 months.

Greg just smiles at her, kneading the ball of her foot. But Michelle’s face drops.

“What if we’re too old for this baby?” she asks. She’s been given to bouts of nerves during this pregnancy, worrying over things that 8 or 9 years ago didn’t seem like an issue.

“I’m not old,” he tells her.

“You are too!” she exclaims.

“Well, I’m older than you. But we’re not that old. Lots of people our age have babies.” And they really aren’t that old, at 36 and 33. He knows his wife is just panicking.

She leans back into the couch cushions and places her hands across her belly. “I’m sorry we’re old,” she says to her stomach.

Greg can’t stop laughing.

A few weeks later, she’s out with her mother buying baby clothes.

“You can’t buy all blue,” her mom says. 

“Why on earth not?”

“Because you don’t actually know that you’re having a boy.”

“Well, for one thing, girls can wear blue, Mother. And for another, of course I’m having a boy.”

Her mother rolls her eyes and decides not to get involved in this argument again.

“Besides,” Michelle continues. “I’m buying him some red, too.”

Several more weeks pass.

This one is a quiet baby. Where Cooper was a tumbler, this baby seems to sit quietly most of the time. Sometimes when she talks she’ll feel him move around a little bit. So, as she gets bigger, and her drive to move gets smaller, she spends more time talking to him. Telling him how much she can’t wait to meet him. Telling him stories. Telling him about the family that’s going to love him so much. Telling him that she already loves him so much.

When his due date comes and goes, she has a serious talk with him.

“Now buddy,” she says, looking in the mirror one day. “I know you have to do this at your own pace, but I’d really like to meet you soon.”

She does this every morning for a week. The morning that she finally starts going into labor she says to him, “Thank goodness. I’m not sure why you’re being so shy, but we really can’t wait to see you.”

The delivery seems easy to her, not without pain obviously, but blurry and hazy. She thinks in part because she’s wanted this baby for so long, for years and years now, that these hours of discomfort maybe don’t seem so bad.

Either that or the drugs have gotten a lot better since she had Cooper.

She’s not surprised when the doctor says it’s a boy, but she is surprised when Greg tells her the name.

“Blaine,” Greg says.

“Blaine?” she asks, looking down at this tiny precious boy. With all of his fingers and all of his toys and the largest, brightest eyes she could ever imagine on a newborn.

“Blaine,” Greg affirms. The baby looks at him then, or at least towards him.

“Like the guy from Pretty in Pink?” Michelle asks. “That’s not a name, that’s a kitchen appliance,” she quotes, a smile playing in her features.

“Different spelling. It’s also a name I found in some of my parent’s genealogical paperwork. Some distant relative’s surname,” Greg explains.

She looks at the baby again. At Blaine.

It fits. So it goes onto the birth certificate.

Later on, she’s alone with him, with her Blaine. She holds him close, kind of can’t believe he’s hers. Theirs. Cooper came to see him, and he was more excited than she would have expected. He wasn’t nearly that excited when they told him he was getting a little brother or sister, but somewhere along the line, he’s really come to love the idea. She thinks this baby is all three of theirs. They’ll take such good care of him.

And he’ll take care of them too, in his own way. She just knows it.

“I can already tell,” she whispers to him. “I can already tell you’re going to be a very nice boy.”


End file.
